Panem's Darling
by LuckyJo2
Summary: Prim's as good as a Career and smarter than the average one, but these Games are different. Her sister, her sister's boyfriend, her sister's old mentor, and her sister's old escort are all on her side. She's got a fighting chance. But the odds have never been in her favor. With Peeta's clues, Haymitch's help, and Katniss's faith, the Games may see another Everdeen victor.
1. Chapter 1

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 1_

**A/N: Hello, everyone! After my hit fanfic, Gray Into Brown, I needed some new ideas. Sooo, I'm doing a Hunger Games fanfic! I really hope you like it! It's going to be really fun to do this. I'm adding in some characters and keeping some old ones around. This takes place at the Third Quarter Quell. This is what would've happened if Prim had to go to the Hunger Games instead of Katniss. Enjoy Ch. 1!**

Chapter 1: The Gong Sounds

Prim's POV

I'm in my jumpsuit of orange, red, yellow, and black. Flamelike. Perhaps for constant reminders of my sister. It feels unnatural, since I am the Wave. It's almost warm, and my skin tingles at the contact.

Katniss, my mentor, has her arms around me. She smells like grass and cherry. That last part must be from the Capitol showers.

My stylist, Logan, and his girlfriend, Lauren, are teary-eyed. They're _normal_ Capitol people: Logan has blonde hair and blue eyes, Lauren dark hair and dark eyes. She's beautiful and Logan's handsome and they're madly in love. I don't want to say goodbye. They're such wonderful stylists.

My escort, Effie, and my other mentor, Haymitch, stand near each other. Effie's toned down her look: she's dressed in a sea-blue sequined skirt and is wearing a blue wig with a seashell pinned to it.

"I thought you c-could use some s-support," she says through chokes. "Oh, Primrose, you know you can do this. You've t-trained so hard. I can't i-imagine you l-losing."

Peeta, my final mentor, has a face of pure misery. "Prim. I'm so sorry this happened."

"It happened, and that's all we can do," is my reply, my voice shaking slightly. "Thank you all so much for all you've done."

Katniss starts ticking off my abilities. "You're magnificent with a knife. Good with a sword. Don't even go for the bow. You're great with plants, both edible and medicinal. You know how to make salves and other healing junk. You're quite fast and extremely brainy. You can find food easily enough. I've taught you how to hunt, barely, but it'll do. And you can do this, Prim. You can do this."

I nod, my blue eyes gazing intently at Haymitch.

He shrugs, and smiles slightly. "Ian's allied with you. So are both from 4, and both from 11. One from 10. You've got quite a pack going."

"Mm-hmm." My face pries one last piece of advice:

"Stay alive, darling."

And I grin.

My hair is in my "signature" low ponytails that trail in front of my shoulders. Just like Katniss's braid, I have my own hairstyle. And nickname: the Wave. Thanks to Lauren and Logan. They went for the opposite of fire: water. I'm the girl on fire's sister. I'm the Wave. The River. The Dewdrop. Whatever they call me.

Two minutes till I have to climb into the glass tube, rising to my death.

"Primrose," Effie says, regaining her composure, "You're a lovely young spirit who's energetic, vivacious, beautiful, and intelligent. I know you can win this, my dear. You're the sweetest, nicest person on the earth. Oh, sweetie, you can win!" She hugs me daintily, and it's about the most wonderful thing ever. Beyond all the makeup and hairspray and wig-colors, Effie's got feelings and a brain of her own.

"Hey, Prim," Peeta interjects. He hands me a slip of paper. Holding a finger to his lips, he whispers, "Don't open it till you're in the arena. I want you to read it then." Then he clears his throat. "Prim, I know you can do this. You're a medical genius, a plant whiz, and you've got your weaponry down. You're a fast learner; I can't believe you'd never worked with weapons before. I just have one thing to say: don't let your sensitivity and innocence stop you. Don't hold back for the grievously wounded or dead. Don't give yourself up for anyone who you don't care about. Stick with only your true love or your best friend. And always remember: you can't trust anyone once you're in there."

"Thanks, Peeta," I say, and kiss his cheek.

It's Lauren's turn. She's so smart, and her brown hair, up in a ponytail, is gorgeous in the light. Tear streaks line her face. "Prim," she says softly. She's only twelve and she's just a perfect stylist. But she's mad for her boyfriend. "Prim, you're going to win. I know you can. Somehow you'll make it. Just like your sister. I want you to know you're the best model ever and just so nice and my best friend." She places something in my hand. "It's your district token."

It's not a mockingjay. It's not water or anything like that.

It's a pin, though. And it's a pin of a primrose.

I love it. A single tear splashes its silver surface. I wipe the rest away and embrace her, hugging her tightly.

"I'm rooting for you, Wave," she says before dissolving into sobs.

Logan puts an arm around her. "Rose," he says, his locks shining in the light, like his girlfriend's, "you can do this. I—we—know you can. We're with you, one hundred percent. You're a great model and a great person. You're a warrior. And you—got—this." He winks. Typical Logan: always trying to keep things light.

One minute. I can tell Katniss is saving her final good-bye for the end.

Haymitch:

"Okay, darling. Advice: find water, find shelter, and don't make fires. Probably not advice: your sister's annoying, but you're not. Thank god for that. She gave me hangovers from just looking at her."

"Shut up, Haymitch, I did not!" Katniss says, laughter somehow creeping into her words.

"Yeah, yeah, sweetheart." He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, darling, I'm gonna get you some sponsors. But you'll need to find your own water and food, too. You're Panem's darling. They'll be begging to sponsor you. More advice: Ian's a good ally, so are both from 4. Be wary of 10. 11, eh, you'll be fine. But watch out for them stinking Careers. God, they're a pain in the—"

"Yes, _thank_ you, Haymitch," Effie says, her tone commanding.

Haymitch holds up his hands in surrender. "All right, Trinket, all right." His eyes meet mine. "Like I said, stay alive." And he actually pats my shoulder. "You're a good kid, Prim."

It's the first time he hasn't called me "darling" since he met me. I hug him tightly, and I can tell he's surprised, but eventually he squeezes me back. "Thank you so much," I whisper in his ear. He smiles sadly.

Thirty seconds.

Katniss starts. I brace myself for words of love, admiration, luck, and preparation.

I do not receive them. Instead I get something much, much better.

My poem. I love poetry. And Katniss found the perfect one for me:

_"The stream winds_

_ Cold and_

_ Blue_

_ Around the mountain_

_ The mountain that hides_

_ A meadow_

_ A meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain_

_ It is a_

_ Refuge_

_ A refuge for life_

_ A refuge for joy_

_ And a _

_ Refuge for_

_ Love_

_ The meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain _

_ Is a like _

_ A slice_

_ Of_

_ Heaven."_

Her voice breaks at the ten second mark, and there are three final words: "I love you."

I repeat them so forcefully. "I love you too."

We hug, and then I'm in the tube.

I take a last look at all of them: Lauren sobbing, Logan comforting her, Peeta waving, Effie crying, Haymitch signaling for me to keep my head up, and Katniss blowing a last kiss.

I do what Haymitch instructed me to do and lift my head up high.

I can imagine the cheers from the Capitol at the sight of me, my eyes at the Cornucopia and my mouth curved in a slight smirk.

A faint breeze ruffles my hair. It's a pleasant temperature, and I can smell pine. All good signs.

Until I open my eyes.

We're by a mountain.

A mountain, of all things!

The area is so rocky; I can hardly believe that it hasn't collapsed. The Cornucopia is perched, almost tauntingly, on a thirty-foot-plateau that is also occupied by a small lake. There are numerous crevices around the plateau. We have to climb up them to reach the golden horn.

I scan the surrounding area. A larger lake to the left; a rocky incline to the right. And smack in the center is a gargantuan mountain. I can't even see the top. I do see loads of pine trees, scattered around in little patches among the rocks. Behind me is a vast area of nothing but rock towers, some hundreds of feet high.

I position myself for the large table of knives that's assorted. Some have dainty-looking edges, some have serrated edges, and one has a wicked looking spiked edge.

I want it.

There are also water bottles, backpacks, apples, and bread thrown around the table. It's the jackpot. I see a large blue backpack that looks ideal. I'm all set to go.

_**30…**_

__I see Ian instantly. He's on the plate next to me. His dark hair and green eyes are extremely visible here. I smile encouragingly at him. He just kind of gives a "heh" back. I want to take his hand, feel the sparks fly. I want to kiss him and tell him its okay.

But he doesn't love me. So I can't.

I focus on my goal. The knives. The knives, the knives, the knives.

_**20…**_

__I make sure my feet are planted right and that my breathing is normal. I need to be fast. Thinking quickly, I double-knot my shoelace and wipe my hands on my hair. I need grip, so from out of my pocket I withdraw a little bit of dirt. My fingers brush Peeta's note.

_**10…**_

_** 9…**_

_** 8… **_

__Now I'm ready. All of my senses are on "high". For some extra confidence, I remember my 11 in Training.

_**7…**_

_** 6…**_

_** 5…**_

___You can do this you can do this you can do this_

_**4…**_

___Go Prim you got this_

_**3…**_

___You're intelligent_

_**2…**_

___And ready…_

_**1…**_

__The gong sounds and I'm flying toward the plateau. Instantly finding a place to start, I clamber up. I see the Careers have started too. I have to get there first. I have to. I'm a minute ahead of their pace. I guess that having all that muscle really weighs you down, huh?

In five seconds I'm halfway done. Silently praising the guy at the Rock-Climbing Station in Training, I swing my legs up and over. Thinking so quickly, I grab about thirteen knives (I think), two backpacks, three loaves of bread, five apples, and four bags full of meat, three first-aid kits, two water bottles, and some handkerchiefs. Then I jump off and tear toward the pine tree area.

I'm up a tree before I know it. Katniss did train me well.

I get a bird's-eye view of the Cornucopia/pine tree/lake area. The bloodbath is raging. I hate it. I count them off on my fingers. I watch beheadings, stabbings, impalings, shootings, even a decapitation. I have to close my eyes on that last one.

Finally, it's over.

The Careers have set up camp by the big lake. I see 1 and 2 are part of the pack, but, for some strange reason, so are both from 7 and 8. Huh. They're strange creatures.

Even from my perch, I hear their complaints and yells.

"How did a stupid, dumb little princess of a girl beat us to the good stuff? A little girl!"

I smile. "Little girl". Oh, what idiots. I was there before they were even off their plates! Not really. But I guess after you win, you get pretty cocky.

I open up the backpack, my heart still racing. Everything went down so fast, and I didn't even touch anyone else. Unlike Katniss, who nearly died like three times during the bloodbath.

The backpack is a gold mine.

It's got medicine, a sleeping bag, a _winter coat_, a _water heater_, gloves, salt, two bottles of iodine, and, best of all, a _compass and complete map of the arena!_ And—the best part about that—_it has a labeled person with each tribute's name that moves when they move._

"Holy CRAP," I say loudly, then cover my mouth. I can't let them hear me. But this is just like the Marauder's Map in Harry Potter. Except this—this is a true Gamemaker's Map. The big G-M.

I can see the Careers, Eleanor and Jeremy from 1 and Maxine and Kyle from 2, by the lake. I can see Cal, Adrianna, Opal, and Jones from 7 and 8 with them. I can see Gregg and Quinn from 4, somewhere by the rocky area I saw to the left. I can see everyone. Including myself. I'm in a tree.

My stomach drops. What if they've copied this map? I'm visible _right now_ if they do. Oh, lord no, lord please no…

I push that thought out of my mind. No. Stop.

But one last time I glance at the map.

For Ian.

And I see him. He's in the same area as me. He's in the Pine Tree Kingdom, as I'm now calling it. He's in a tree, too. I honestly want to jump down and find him. But I'm not going to.

No, that'd be dumb.

One last thing falls out of the black backpack. It's a journal and a pen, clipped together.

My eyes light up. I love to write. This is great! I can keep track of everything. I position my pen. And I write, neatly, on the first page:

_This journal belongs to Primrose J. Everdeen—a tribute in the 75__th__ Annual Hunger Games_

I turn a page. And I write. I write and write and write.

_Hello, Journal. My name's Primrose. If you don't mind, I'd like to be called Prim. And you look like a—hmm. Your name is…oh, how about Elle? I love Elle. It's so beautiful._

_ It's my first day in the arena. It was terrifying at first, but I beat out the Careers and got so much stuff I don't know what to __do__ with it! Food, medicine, a coat…and a Gamemaker's Map! It's so perfect. Luck is certainly on my side at the moment._

_ I'm still scared though. So, I thought, you know, if I do die, I'm going to write things down and put things in here, as a legacy. For my sister, Katniss. Of course you know about her…she's the girl on fire and she won the 74__th__ Hunger Games._

_ For the first day, I'm going to put a pine needle from the tree I'm staying in. It's in the Pine Tree Kingdom. It smells divine._

_ Also for the first day, if anyone ever reads this, I miss Effie Trinket and her fussy ways right now. She's really lovely. And her outfits are so exciting. I miss you, Effie! _

_ Bye,_

_ Prim_

I settle down into my tree.

Maybe I can win these Games.

Maybe.

Just maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 2_

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I really hope I got off to a good start on Ch. 1. I also checked my traffic graph—oh my gosh, you guys, I literally get hundreds of views a day, and it moves me to tears. I love all of you so much! Please enjoy Ch. 2! And I'm on winter break starting Saturday—that means **_**lots **_**more posting! Enjoy Ch. 2!**

Chapter 2—A Team of Four

Prim's POV 

_Hi, Elle. I'm back._

_ They're just about the show the faces in the sky. I've heard two cannons since the bloodbath, when there were nine. Eleven deaths. None of the Career pack. Not Ian. Not me. _

_ I think I'm in love with Ian._

_ Is that bad? Is it wrong to be in love when you're thirteen? No, I guess not; Lauren and Logan are twelve and they are head-over-heels for each other._

_ He's really handsome. He has the darkest hair and the brightest eyes of anyone I've ever met…and his voice…oh my god; it's like rain, falling softly on my deck in Victor's Village. I remember the few times he's talked to me. I could hardly keep my words straight. And he caught me singing…and he smiled and said I was "pretty good for a girl"…and I nearly died…_

_ CAPITL ANTEM PLAIG_

_ … _

_ Okay. I took a bit of a break to watch the faces in the sky. I'll tell you who's dead:_

_ District 3 girl. District 5 boy and girl. District 6 girl and boy. District 9 boy. District 10 boy and girl. District 11 boy and girl. 11 dead._

_ 13 left._

_ I'm one of them. I've survived my first day._

_ I better go. I think one of the Careers is coming my way. I'll check the map._

_ Goodbye!_

_ Love, Prim_

I put the pen down and stuff the journal into the backpack. I remember the other pack, the one I didn't open.

It's small, smaller than the big black one, and this one is blue.

When I open it I nearly drop it.

It's full of blood!

What?!

Then I realize how this could help me. Fake blood. It's spilled out of the plastic bag it's contained in slightly, but I patch it up quickly enough with a leaf and some sap.

I could play dead in a crisis. This is pretty genius, whoever came up with it.

But now it's getting dark, and I really don't like the dark much.

And that's when my first sponsor gift floats down from above. I almost miss it, but it catches in a branch and I nearly fall out of the tree. I thought it was Ian for a moment, but then I shake my head and pluck it from the twig.

It's a flashlight! Oh, perfect! That's the one thing the bag was missing. The only problem is I could hardly use it. The Careers could see the light and then where would I be?

I notice the knob on the side. It's a brightness meter! Awesome! Now I can dim it, still see, and the Careers won't notice! Or the Careers, plus District 7 and 8. I still have no clue why they'd let _them_ join up of all things.

_The stream winds_

_ Cold and_

_ Blue_

_ Around the mountain_

I smile at the thought of those words. They're beautiful, really, and I get the image perfectly in my head. A gushing, icy stream, pure and fast, flows freely, winding around a giant snow-capped mountain, the wind cold and fresh against my face, ruffling my hair. And I feel like climbing that mountain, touching the sky, lifting an arm to grab a cloud and pull myself onto it, lying down on that cloud and just absorbing everything.

It's comforting.

Until I hear the cannon.

Suddenly I go stock still. _Is it Ian? God, not Ian…_

And then I realize the Careers aren't at the lake anymore.

The map! I pull it from my pocket. Scanning it, I'm filled with relief to find Ian, still in the Pine Tree Kingdom. He's closer now, but it would still take an hour to reach him. The Careers have gone around the other side of the lake.

I see my person, _Primrose Everdeen,_ up in a tree. And I see someone…

Directly below it!

I jump and start putting everything from within reach into my bags. _Please no, please no…oh no, oh no…_ I didn't even think to check the map for who it was…it doesn't matter, I have to go, I have to go!

"Hey!"

I freeze. They've seen me.

"I'm Quinn, and this is Gregg, and we'd like to ally with you! Primrose, come down!"

I climb down a few branches, so I can actually see them. Quinn smiles up at me. She throws her spear two feet away. Gregg throws his sword too. "We're unarmed! Come down!"

I don't trust them quite yet. "Turn out your pockets!"

They obey. I can't see any bulky things hidden in their jumpsuits. "Take off your shoes, please!" They do. They're not hiding anything. So I clamber down and land softly on the ground.

"Hello," Quinn says again. "We're from District 4, and we'd love to have you for an ally."

"Yeah, you're pretty good for a girl," Gregg says with a grin.

They're both tan, and they both have sea-green eyes. Quinn has a mass of golden-red sun-kissed hair, and it's beautiful. Her face is splashed with freckles and the jumpsuit looks perfect on her. She's strong-looking and her lashes are long and black and she's very pretty.

Gregg has auburn hair and straight teeth. He's muscular and tall. They're both model-like. And they're both about sixteen. Quinn smiles.

"I wanted you for an ally as soon as I saw you in the Training Center!" she gushes, retrieving her spear. I back up a few steps. Quinn's face melts into a sad, wide-eyed look. "No, no, I won't hurt you!" She kicks it over to me. Gregg does the same with his sword. I guess I must look pretty fearful, because Quinn comes over and touches my shoulder lightly. "Poor girl. You must be terrified. Such an innocent, lovely little one, aren't you?"

I scowl. "No."

Quinn laughs. "Okay, then! A vicious beast?"

"Not really. Probably somewhere in between the two. I am pretty innocent, but the reaping changed me." I smile. "But I'd really like you for an ally. And you too, Gregg."

They both grin. "Perfect!" Quinn exclaims. "We've been looking for a good ally. We tried to find you, but we couldn't! I finally spotted the tiny, dim light." She nods at my flashlight. "Probably not the most useful thing at the moment, huh?"

"No, but it has a brightness meter. That could be helpful." I begin pulling other things out of the two backpacks. Their eyes widen at the sight of all the food, supplies, medicine, and weapons that tumble onto the earth.

"Holy crud, PR, did you loot the whole Copia?" Gregg's voice is full of desire. "You're really something, you know that?"

"I'm 'PR', now, am I?" I say with a slight edge. I don't really like being called anything but Prim or Primrose. Logan can call me Rose. But PR just doesn't really _click_.

"Yeah. It can stand for Pro Runner. Or Perfect Rip."

"Perfect Rip is stupid. Pro Runner is okay."

Gregg laughs. "Man, you're feistier than you look, PR!" He high-fives me. Quinn laughs and pulls her hair back with a rubber band.

"Do you have a district token?" she asks, raising her wrist. A pearl bracelet, perfect to the last gleam, sparkles in the late-evening light. It's almost sundown.

"Yeah." I unclasp the pin from the backpack strap I pinned it to earlier.

"Oh my god!" Quinn whispers. "It's beautiful!"

"It's a primrose. You know." I smile and run my fingers through my hair. Quinn flashes me a beautiful smile.

"You're so pretty. Did you know that?"

I blush. "No. I'm not pretty. You are."

Quinn laughs. "Oh, Primrose, don't be silly." She gestures to the tree. "Shall we set up camp?"

"Sure!" The exclamation spills out of my mouth and I blush harder. "Sorry. I'm just—psyched to have Careers for my allies." I truly am. This is the first time the thought _maybe I can win_ crosses my mind.

Quinn and Gregg exchange smiles. "We're psyched to have the girl on fire's sister for our ally. Welcome to the team, Wave," Gregg says. "You'll fit in perfectly with our crew."

"Your _crew_?" I say, aghast, suddenly terrified. "Are there more of you?" Thousands of scenarios jump out at me, most involving an impaling.

"Just one. We've allied with another boy. Your district partner!" Quinn says, tossing her hair back.

My

Heart

Freezes.

Ian's here. He's _here!_ Oh my god, this is perfect and horrible at the same time! He's here. His eyes are brilliant in the setting sun and his smile stands out like a million moons.

"Hey, Primrose!" His grin widens. He walks over, his hands in his jumpsuit pockets, casually excited. "I'm stoked that you're my ally. Honestly, watching you tear to the Cornucopia like that, outrunning the Careers…I thought, _Man, she's good._"

I resist the urge to throw my arms around his neck and laugh into his shoulder. Instead I grin swiftly. "It paid off. Guess what I got?"

I pull the Gamemaker's Map from the blue backpack, where it had been nestled in the "secret pocket" inside the pack.

Quinn lets out a little shriek, Gregg's lips part, and Ian's face melts into the biggest smile in the world.

"You—got—a—Game—maker's—map?!" he exclaims with a shocked look. "Wild winds, you're good!"

I laugh. "Let's get above the Pine Tree Kingdom already. 1, 2, 7, and/or 8 could be anywhere. Possibly—"

I turn around swiftly, knife in hand. Ian cries out and stumbles backward. Quinn knocks her spear while Gregg positions his machete.

I laugh. "Always be prepped."

Quinn's face twists into a trying-not-to-smile face. Gregg slaps my shoulder. Ian's face goes tomato red.

"Hey, it's good training. Nice job, Quinn. Good form, Gregg. Ian—"

I look down at him disapprovingly.

"Stay on your feet next time."

Everyone laughs. We climb up my tree. I take my supplies up a few branches, where a cluster of sturdy-looking sticks jab out of the tree. We settle in.

Ian is on the branch closest to me. He smiles, the corners of his green eyes crinkling. I smile back.

"I'm really glad you're my ally," he whispers. His whisper is low and sweet and crisp and it feels like the breeze on my face. It's all I can do not to scream in delight.

"Same to you, Ian."

His eyes flutter closed and he yawns. "I'm exhausted."

"Go to bed, then. It doesn't take a genius."

Ian laughs. "You're funny."

"I know. Now let's sleep. I'll take watch first, and I'll wake Quinn up later." I try not to laugh giddily. His eyelashes are so long…

"No, no, wake me up. She needs rest. I know. I watched her run for awhile…" He yawns and stretches. "Night, Everdeen."

"Night, Reseda."

He falls asleep a few minutes later, and it's just me and the last strip of the red sun.

I picture his grin in my head and realize that his eyes have a grayish circle around the green. It's a gray-green rim. And the ironic part is that "reseda" is a gray-green flower. I smile to myself.

His lips are full and pink. His cheek curves into his chin perfectly. His nose has a line of red sunburn across the bridge. His eyebrows are full and dark. His ears are pinkish from the cold. I want to put my hands over them and kiss his forehead.

But he doesn't love me. So I can't.

Ian's love is a girl from town in 12. Emily Line. Pretty, funny, athletic. Her father's business does pretty well. She doesn't look starving.

I'm tougher. I'm pretty, according to Quinn. I'm funny. Ian said so himself. I'm athletic. I'm in the freaking Hunger Games, for god's sake! I'm a quick learner. I'm smarter. I'm the good one for him.

He belongs with me. But why can't he just see that?

I sit, watching the stars twinkle. Are they generated or real?

I want them to be real. I want them to be the stars I see on the deck of my house in Victor's Village. I want them to be the stars I saw when my father sang "All Things Bright and Beautiful" to me as a child. I want them to be _my_ stars.

Anger and fear and sadness well up inside of me. I finally just throw a pinecone as hard as I can. Then another. Another. I want a fight now. I want to thrust my knife as hard as I can. I want a distraction.

A single tear shines in the moonlight as it trails down my cheek. It's cold.

I wipe it off and touch it gently on Ian's cheek. I want a part of me to stay with him always.

It shimmers on his skin. Absorbing quickly, it melts into him.

I smile.

There.


	3. Chapter 3

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 3_

**A/N: Hey everybody! I'm really sorry about the wait on that last chapter. I wasn't home for a few days. Back now! And on winter break! That means more chapters! Yeah! Okay. Now, enjoy ch. 3!**

Chapter 3—Decisions, Decisions

Ian's POV

I remember the reaping so clearly. And I relive it in my dream.

_ The sun beats down mercilessly on the families of previous victors. _

_ I know I'm being chosen. I'm Haymitch's only family left. And I barely know him. I think he's my uncle. But he doesn't know, or doesn't care._

_ It was either me or Peeta Mellark's younger sister, Jordan. She's fourteen, but she's got a mind problem. And that's how I knew she wasn't going in. Who wants to watch a demented person amble around on TV? Nobody. Who wants to watch a drunk's nephew unwillingly kill others? Loads._

_ I stand in line with the other fourteen-year-olds. I see Emily crystal clear. She's talking in hushed tones to her friend, Ursula. I want to hug her and tell her it'll be alright. I want to take her hand and spin her around. I want to just be with her one more time._

_ This reaping is going to be different._

_ The demon, President Snow, read out the dreaded card. It stated that the victor's families would be reaped. And I instantly knew: me._

_ And the other girl. The other girl who I've watched so closely for months._

_ Primrose Everdeen._

_ I can't sort her out. I love Emily. But I also admire Primrose so greatly. I honestly think that if I hadn't met Emily I'd have asked her to be my girlfriend._

_ Effie Trinket clops over to the reaping ball in a sequined dress and platform heels. Her makeup is blue. She looks horrified and saddened._

_ "L-ladies first," she squeaks, shooting a sympathetic look in Primrose's direction. Primrose looks beautiful in a sky blue dress that matches her eyes. Her hair is in two low ponytails. Her face is tight, contorted, but strong. I'm blown away by her readiness._

_ And ready she is._

_ "Oh, heavens…P-Primrose E-Everdeen…" Effie's sobs are dry and smothered in her handkerchief. "Come on up, d-dear."_

_ Primrose's steady steps are leveled and strong. Her face is twisted into a look of pure intimidation. She looks nothing like the sweet, small little girl I'd seen before._

_ She climbs onto the stage. Effie bends down and whispers something to her. Primrose just nods and looks up at the clouds, her eyes just slightly lighter than the mid-afternoon landscape of a sky._

_ Effie then totters over to the boys' reaping ball. Her gloved hand, streaked with mascara that stains her eyes, brushes tens of hundreds of slips. _

_ Her voice is cracked as she says Peeta's sister's name._

_ Relief almost knocks me over. I'm not going. Oh, thank god._

_ Until I see the girl stumble over to the stage, mumbling about fairies and snowflakes. I sigh. She'll never make it. Neither would I, but Peeta's tears force my hand._

_ I raise my arm. "I volunteer as tribute! I volunteer for Jordan Mellark!"_

_ Peeta's shocked face, Primrose's slight smile, and my steps are all that I'm aware of…_

"AH!" I sit straight up. Sweat beads line my forehead. Something wet is on my cheek. Have I been crying?

Primrose's head turns instantly. "Ian," she whispers. My heart melts at the sound of her voice. I feel guiltily relaxed.

_Emily. Emily._

"Ian, are you okay?" Primrose murmurs, brushing a piece of wet hair off my forehead. Her hand is warm and soft. I want to hold it to my cheek.

_ Y._

"Y-yeah," I stutter, feeling sick to my stomach. "I'm ok-okay."

"No you're not," she says gently, holding a hand to my forehead. "I'm a medic. I know what's going on. You've got food poisoning." In the dim moonlight I can tell it's just before dawn. She hasn't slept at all. "What did you eat yesterday?"

"F-fish from the l-lake."

"Ah. You didn't cook it right, then." She frowns. Her eyebrows scrunch together. She's deep in thought. "I guess we'll just have to wait for you to pass it over. Try drinking lots of fluids. You need to replace what you lost."

"Th-thanks."

She lifts a water bottle to my lips. I didn't even realize how dry my throat was or how chapped my mouth had become. I'm panting hard. I'm breathless.

"God, Ian, how much fish did you eat?" She sounds alarmed and concerned.

"Th-three." I drink the water, cool and refreshing. Primrose lowers it and leans her face in very close to mine.

_Emily…_

_ Emily…_

_ EMILY…_

Her nose is nearly touching mine when she blinks. Her eyelashes flutter up and down. Freckles line her nose from being outside so much. She lived in the Seam for awhile, so she was constantly outdoors. Her eyes are bluer than the water in the lake. Primrose is beautiful. There's no doubt about it.

"It'll take awhile." She scoots closer to me. "I'm not going to sleep _now_," she states softly. Her voice is quiet, flowing, and sweeter than the honey that my mother used to make cinnamon rolls. "I've got to watch over you, huh?"

I feel cold and boiling hot at the same time. "Y-y-yeah."

"You're getting worse." She fingers the black pack and pulls out a winter coat. "Here. You'll feel scorched at first, but it will get better." Primrose helps me into it. She's right. At first I feel like a baked potato. But after a few minutes, I feel almost at normal temperature. But my stomach still flips and my head still aches. I can't believe this. One day in and I'm already falling apart.

Primrose cups my chin in her hand. "You need to lie down, or you'll just keep feeling dizzy." She gives a slight laugh. "I know what food poisoning is like. When your sister brings home raw meat every day and neither she nor your mother can cook, you get sick."

"I-I-I b-bet." She must be right. I can barely see her eyes.

"Here." She pulls my head onto her lap. Instantly the world stops spinning. I sigh into the night air. "Feeling better?"

"Al-already."

She puts a hand on my head. "Ian, I have to tell you something—"

Quinn sits up. "Hey, Prim! You were supposed to wake me up!" She spies me. "Oh. I see."

"He's got food poisoning from three raw fish he ate." Primrose explains. Her hand leaves my head and I long for it to be placed back.

I think Emily must be so mortally mad. I honestly—I think I love Primrose. I think I'm truly in love with her. Emily was great. But Primrose is better. She's nicer, smarter, and quicker. She's everything that Emily never was.

Emily's a fighter. She gets what she wants. But she's still good and whole. The only problem is her temper.

Primrose has no temper. All she has is pent-up energy. Ready to go. Ready to win.

The last thought I have before I fall asleep is _Primrose I love you._

Quinn's POV

Primrose and Ian obviously have feelings for each other. It's so adorable! I know Ian has a girlfriend. Primrose told me yesterday. But I know he's in love with Primrose. And Primrose told me she also has the biggest crush on Ian.

We've gotten close. She's a quick thinker, quick learner, and quick on her feet. Primrose is sweet, strong, and beautiful. Very polite as well. She thinks I'm pretty. I think she's gorgeous.

She's honestly my best friend in the arena right now. Well, best friend/little sister.

I watch her whisper something to Ian. He nods and nudges her forward. She curls up on her branch and sleeps soundly.

"So, Ian," I begin, a crooked smile splaying on my lips. "Crush much?"

"Be q-quiet, Q-Quinn," he laughs, bright red. "I d-don't like P-Primrose that way."

"Uh-huh." I giggle. "You really don't see how obvious it is? Your crush on her?"

"I have a girlfriend."

"You _had_ a girlfriend. Up until about the time Primrose leaned close to your face and you nearly kissed her."

"Yeah, well…fine. I admit it. I might have a little crush on Primrose."

"Aha!" I quiet down because the other Careers might be nearby. "I knew it! It's the way you talk to her, the way you look at her, even the way you think about her."

"H-how do you know I think about her?" He sounds scandalized.

"I can tell by the look you get. Your eyes get all faraway and your mouth curves and your face reddens."

"Gah!" He puts his face in his hands. Ian's really a funny person. I laugh lightly and touch his arm.

"Dude, lighten up. It's all good. I swear she's got no idea."

"Does she like me?" he asks, almost eagerly. I glance over in Primrose's direction. I don't know if I should tell him or not.

A mini battle rages in my head. I shift my mouth to one side and put on a poker face while I decide.

_I don't know if she'd want me to. She'd be humiliated._

_ I don't know if she'd be happy. She might._

_ I don't know if she'll have the guts to tell him herself. Maybe she can._

_ I don't know!_

I sigh and blow my bangs off my forehead. "I'm sorry, Ian, I just don't know."

He shrugs. "That's okay. It's not really your fault." Ian smiles slightly, but I see the longing in his eyes as he looks at Primrose. "I really didn't know until tonight. I guess I was tricked into believing I loved Emily."

"You know, you're a bit young to be dealing with all this stuff. Love and all," I say with a wave of my hand. "True love doesn't come till you're older."

"My mom married a childhood friend," Ian counters swiftly. "It could."

"_Friend_, Ian, she married a childhood _friend_. They weren't in love when they were thirteen!" I argue.

"I'm fourteen."

"Primrose is thirteen! It doesn't matter. You're too young. I hate to break it to you, but it's the truth." I run my hands through my hair. "You're too young."

_"You're too young,"_ Ian says in a high voice that sounds nothing like my own. "Love is felt from birth."

Man, he's good.

"Okay, okay," I sigh, holding my hands up in surrender. "Go ahead. But teen love never lasts very long."

"I don't care." Ian's eyes are glassy in the moonlight. "We're in Games where we're going to die. I'd rather die knowing she loves me."

"But _Ian,_" I say wearily. "You don't even know if she _does_ like you!"

"I'll find out. And if she doesn't, I'd rather die knowing that _she_ knows that I love her!" Ian's voice drops, and I know the matter is history.

I sigh again and peer down at the bushes.

Just in time to find a sniper with a bow, knocked and loaded, pointed straight at Primrose's head.


	4. Chapter 4

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 4_

**A/N: Hey! What's up? I'll tell you! The sky! (Ba-dum-crash!) Yeah, so I'm writing another chapter. That's three in one day! I'm just filled to the brim with ideas, you know? Hey! Hey, guess what? Peeta's note comes into play! And Haymitch's help! ****! I'm really stoked about this chapter. Enjoy ch. 4!**

Chapter 4—A Redhead Angel

Gregg's POV

I awake to Quinn's cry for help.

"SNIPER! SNIPER!" Her mane of red-gold-orange hair bounces frantically as she leaps from branch to branch, trying to hide behind the trunk. "SNIPER!"

I stand quickly. "Where, Quinn? Where?"

She points to the ground. "Base of the tree! He's got a bow and arrow! Loaded and aimed for—PRIMROSE!"

PR sits up groggily. "Someone say my name?"

"PR! RUN!" I bellow, positioning a knife to throw. "Gotta borrow this, PR!"

PR rubs her eyes. "Okay, Gregg—HOLY CRUD!" She spies the ground. "Who is it? What district?"

"7, I think! The Careers must've sent him!" Quinn replies.

"Wait!" PR says, whipping her head. "WHERE'S IAN?"

"DUCK!" I yell, pushing Quinn and PR to the ground. PR's still screaming for Ian and Quinn has her spear ready. "We have to climb down if we're going to catch him!"

"IAN! IAN!" PR calls. "IAN!" Her calls turn to sobs. "I-IAN!"

"YOU IDIOT, GET THE FREAKING MAP OUT!" I yell, avoiding a well-shot arrow. PR blinks and obeys immediately. Her fingers fumble with the slip of paper.

"It's 8! The boy from 8! Ian's a few trees away!" PR says, and her voice shakes with relief. "He's okay. Thank god, thank god…"

"DUCK! STOP STANDING STILL! MOVE IT!" I command. Quinn grabs the knife from my hand and hurls it at the ground. It hits the boy in the foot and he cries out in pain.

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THAT, GINGER!" he yells, knocking his arrow back into place.

"QUINN! LOOK OUT!" PR screams. Quinn hits the wood at the last second, the arrow sticking an inch from her fiery hair.

"OH MY GOD—"

Her scream is cut off as she jumps to the next tree. She climbs up higher. The sniper shifts.

"Who's it gonna be?" he says, quieter. "Who's it gonna be? Wave or Ginger? Or Commando? Or Little Jumper Boy?"

A wild scream, almost like that of an animal, tears from behind the sniper. He releases the arrow just as Ian throws a spear through his abdomen. A cannon boom tears the air apart.

"Oh, good _job,_ Ian!" I yell.

"G-Gregg," PR says, her voice constrained.

Quinn is pinned to the tree, an arrow through her chest. Blood drips down her jumpsuit. She coughs. Her eyelids flutter and her chest heaves.

_"Quinn."_ My voice breaks.

"H-hi, G-Gregg," she says weakly. Her eyes are so hazel in the light. "W-win f-for m-me."

"PR! Can't you—can't you heal her?"

PR gently draws the arrow from her chest. Quinn gives a little moan and winces. "Sorry," PR says. Then she begins to examine the wound. She fingers the piercing. A tear drips onto Quinn's jumpsuit.

"Oh, G-Gregg…" Her voice is choked by sobs. "I-It p-pierced h-her h-heart…f-fatal w-wound…w-wonder sh-she d-d-didn't d-d-die al-already…"

Quinn's hair is fanned out beautifully around her. Her face is almost calm. "H-hey, G-Gregg…" Her hands stretch out in my direction. "Y-you k-know, i-it's r-really r-rare f-for a-a C-Career t-to d-die o-on th-the sec-second d-day." She smiles that crooked smile, pain clouding her hazel eyes. "I-I g-guess I-I'm sp-special, h-h-h-huh?"

"Q-Quinn," I say, tears running down my cheeks, "y-you were always sp-special…" I hold her head against my chest. "You're m-my best friend, Q-Quinn, and you al-always have b-been…I love you l-like a sister, Q-Quinn, y-you c-can't g-go…I love you too m-much!"

"I-I l-l-love y-y-you t-t-too, G-G-Gregg-g-g." Her voice becomes light and soft. The stutters subside, and her voice is clear. "I always have." Her face is glowing. Her jumpsuit is a white, long dress, and it goes well with her beautiful mane of fiery hair. Her hair is long and loose and flowing. She's radiant. "Try and win for me, will you, doofus?" And she kisses my forehead lightly. With feathery, pure white wings, she flies into the stars until she becomes one.

A cannon boom brings me back to reality.

Chopping helicopter blades scream in my ears. I bury myself in her chest. Her blood stains my face. She's not going. She _can't _go. Quinn must be alive, her voice full of starlight and her eyes full of fiery life and her face full of excitement and beauty. I ache for her. I take her hand. It's still and tan with District 4 sun.

Something's written on her palm. _Best friends…147…QG…_

The helicopter pilot gets out his bullhorn. "STEP AWAY FROM THE BODY. NOW."

I give Quinn one last, gentle hug and remove the pearl bracelet from her wrist. It's flecked with blood. I also remove Quinn's rubber band that's tangled in her hair. Then I take the blue pack, PR takes the black one, and we clamber down the tree.

I watch the claw extend and take Quinn's body up into the hovercraft. Her red-gold-orange hair waves in the wind.

It all happened so fast. I woke up and three minutes later she was dead.

Two deaths in less than ten seconds. It must be a record.

The 8 boy is also plucked from the ground by the hovercraft. Quinn's body balances on top of his. I want to scream and knock the copter out of the sky. I want to sob and die like Quinn and join her. I want to rave and heave and destroy the dumb Games and the Capitol and the districts and just sit and do nothing but grieve for the rest of my life.

But I can't. _Try and win for me, will you, doofus?_

I'm going to win.

I grab my sword and face PR and Ian, who clutch each other. PR stands in front of Ian. "No, Gregg. You need us. You _need _us."

"I didn't need anybody but Quinn. She was all I had left. Now, run or die."

Ian and PR join hands. "I'm not leaving without you," Ian tells PR. PR nods.

And suddenly, I see myself and Quinn, grasping each other's hands while a Career threatens us. I see Quinn standing up to fight, telling me she'd never leave me behind. I see myself joining her.

My sword falls to the ground.

PR smiles at me kindly, tears staining her cheeks. I brace myself for her condolence, his apologies, and their constant sympathetic outbursts.

Instead, PR does something that calms me instantly.

"_The stream winds_

_ Cold and_

_ Blue_

_ Around the mountain_

_ The mountain that hides_

_ A meadow_

_ A meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain_

_ It is a_

_ Refuge_

_ A refuge for life_

_ A refuge for joy_

_ And a _

_ Refuge for_

_ Love_

_ The meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain _

_ Is a like _

_ A slice_

_ Of_

_ Heaven."_

The poem is beautiful and I can picture Quinn sitting at it now, enjoying a barefoot run in the meadow grass with her sister who died at three months. I see Quinn's grandfather, laughing as Quinn slips in a puddle. I see Quinn's smile, Quinn's eyes light up, and Quinn's body leap for joy. I see her watching me right now, holding a hand out to me. I see us running as fast and hard as we can, not caring about others, just that we're best friends and together and always will be there for each other. Not in love. But so close.

"Let's go." I pick up my sword and the blue pack. PR takes the black pack. Ian takes his knife and PR's.

_Try and win for me, will you, doofus?_

Yep.

I'll win if it kills me.

Prim's POV

Quinn's death was horrible.

She saved my life and she sacrificed herself for me! When the arrow was fired, she shoved me out of the way and ducked. I'm sure she meant to hit the branch faster, but she didn't. Her hair got caught on a twig and the arrow pierced her heart.

I'm glad I calmed Gregg down, though. That poem is truly magical. It can calm anyone.

My heart aches for Ian and his lips, his eyes, his touch. I yearn to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him. I want to whisper playfully in his ear, run around the Seam barefoot, and roll down the Meadow hill. I want to crash into him and laugh like crazy and watch the clouds. I want to sing to him and dance and twirl as he watches. I want to cartwheel down to the wood's lake, and go swimming.

My heart burns for what could've been, if I'd had the time.

I feel awful. For Gregg, for Quinn. For both of them. They were best friends, and Quinn gave herself up for _me._ I wish _I_ was dead. Quinn and I got so close. She was like my sister in the arena. I told her everything. Even if we only had that relationship for two days, I instantly felt comfortable around her. It was her attitude. She was so carefree, so wild, so _green light, go_. She was like a star. A star.

My mind is constantly making up poems. For anything. A beetle landing on a leaf, Katniss's eyes, our house during a rainstorm. Quinn's poem is perfect for her.

_A halo of fire and gold_

_ Wings of wind and laughter_

_ Racing barefoot_

_ Across_

_ The sky_

_ Flying like a dove of heat_

_ Skimming the _

_ Clouds that_

_ Puff so high_

_ In the great_

_ Blue_

_ Sky_

I close my eyes as we walk along. Gregg is silently crying. Ian keeps watch for more tributes that could be lurking around.

_Quinn, why did you save me? Why didn't you just yell at me to duck? Why did you anger the sniper? Why didn't you just climb into a tree and leave me? Why? You've only known me for two days. You didn't even know my favorite color…It's the same color as your hair, Quinn…reddish-gold with orange…_

It's nearly morning now. The sky is turning darkish red.

Quinn told me she loved art. "Painting is wonderful! You can make anything out of a few colors," she gushed to me once. "I used to paint everyday as a girl like you, and then I'd go get Gregg and annoy him to death. 'See my painting, Gregg?' I'd say, 'see it?'".

_Are you painting the sunrise, Quinn?_

Is the leader of whatever paradise she's in allowing her to paint the sky a now-beautiful red-orange? The sun is a golden drop. Just like Quinn's hair.

Quinn's eyes were hazel. A green-brown color with flecks of gold. Like golden snowflakes, scattered across the grass of District 4. They were always ablaze, brimming with excitement and energy. They were framed by long lashes. At first, I thought they were sea-green. No. They were reflecting the lake. I thought that she was ordinary. A regular, model-like Career. No. Her eyes can be any color they want to. I bet they're the color of the sunrise she's painting right now.

"Get a move on, PR," Gregg says, his voice cracked. "We've got to move to shelter."

"That rocky area over there should have a cave or two," Ian muses. "That's a good place to start."

"Sure."

I wipe my eyes. "Yeah. I'll ch-check the map."

Gregg glances at me. His eyes soften at the sight of my tears. I'm constantly crying. Quinn was special. She really was.

I fumble with the map. "The rocky incline sh-should be to the w-west," I say, pointing. "It'll t-take about twenty m-minutes to get there."

"Thanks, PR," Gregg says, and we go on.

The area we travel in is full of sharp rocks and steep drops. We have to look down every thirty seconds to make sure we don't fall and break our necks. Once or twice I catch a glimpse of a snake.

"Careful, guys," I warn, my post-sobbing stutters finally disappearing, "there's snakes around here, and I can't tell if they're venomous or not."

"Ah!" Ian cries as a vulture lands two feet away. "God, these things are stupid." He waves his hands. "Shoo! Get!"

"Don't do that, Ian, you'll scare it into attack," Gregg sighs. "Didn't you stop at the Animal Station in the Training Center?"

"No."

"Well, you should've." Gregg pinches the bridge of his nose in exhilaration. "Vultures only land when they look for food. They're _scavengers._ That means they eat stuff that's already dead. And it reeks of death in this arena to them. That decapitation in the bloodbath? I'll bet my left hand that he ate the scraps of the body left behind."

Ian shudders. "Thank you for the information, Gregg."

We keep trudging on. My feet hurt and my head aches, but I'm going to get to that cave. _You can rest when you get there. You can drink when you get there. You can eat when you get there. Keep going. For Quinn._

"Ouch!" I trip over a rock. My ankle screams in pain. "Oh, god, no."

"Did you break it?" Ian says, bending down. I shake my head.

"No. I think I twisted it. Crap, I'm such a genius." I attempt to stand up. With no success. I fall back down. "Ohhh. Ohhh, no."

"Here." Gregg sits next to me. "I stopped by the Medical Center. Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"Blue backpack."

He takes it out. "I can make a stint, and you should be able to walk on it then."

"Okay."

I close my eyes and lay my head down on the grass. It feels good to lie down. Ian rubs my shoulders.

"This might hurt!" he says warily as I peer up at him. "I'm relaxing you."

I laugh and wince. "Thanks, then." He continues to rub my shoulders. I sigh. _Something_ good is coming out of this.

"Ready…set…" Gregg quickly positions the stint on my ankle. It burns for a moment, but then the pain subsides. "Better?"

"Lots!" I exclaim. "Thanks a million, Gregg!" I hug him tightly. He jerks slightly, surprised, but smiles at me nonetheless.

The rocky incline is only five minutes away. The sun is fully up now, and the remainder of the sunrise is a strip of pale orange.

_Good work, Quinn. It was beautiful._

I swear the trees and the grass and the flowers whisper, _Thanks, Primrose._


	5. Chapter 5

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 5_

**A/N: Hola, readers! I want to say again you ROCK. I love you all so much! That last chapter was really hard to write. Quinn was one of my favorite characters. I loved her relationship with Prim. They got so close in such a short window of time. Now in this chapter is Peeta's note. I know I said it would happen last chapter, but I really couldn't fit it in with Quinn's death and all. So here it is! Enjoy Ch. 5! (I don't own One Republic's "Feel Again", Maroon 5's "Daylight", or P!NK's "Try")**

Chapter 5—Reading the Clue

Prim's POV

My fingers are cold. At night, this arena is seriously freezing. I gave my gloves to Quinn. Right as Gregg left I put them on her hands. My last words to her were whispered and choked: "Bye, Quinn…I hope you're running free in paradise." And then I hugged her and climbed down, tears mingling with blood and dirt.

_The mountain that hides_

_ A meadow_

_ A meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain_

Maybe that's where Quinn is. The meadow beyond the mountain where the streams run cold and blue. The meadow that's a refuge for life, joy, and love. The meadow that's a slice of heaven.

_"Heart still beating but it's not working_

_ It's like a million dollar phone that you just can't ring_

_ I reached out trying to love but I feel nothing _

_ Yeah, my heart is numb."_

I sing softly, under my breath. I can't tell if the song's directed toward Ian or Quinn.

Gregg glances back at me. He's been doing that every three seconds. Sometimes I see a flash of gentleness. Sometimes I see anger. Sometimes grieving, sometimes numbness, sometimes even a murderous look. But usually, I see empathy. He knows what I'm going through. He's feeling it even harder than I am—this mix of negative emotions running through my veins.

Q is for quarrel never going down without a fight

U is for unique always having your own light

I is for intelligent with you the answer's always right

N is for necessity through the day and through the night

And N is for your niceness comforting through a fright

Thank you Quinn for your beauty and your smile and your might

I will always remember you through the dim and through the bright

My brain teems with poems for her, but my acrostic stands out. It basically names everything about Quinn. Strong, different, smart, sweet, beautiful, and unforgettable.

My voice grows louder.

_"But with you_

_ I can feel again_

_ Yeah with you_

_ I can feel again."_

I close my eyes, not caring who hears, and belt out more words.

_"I've feeling better ever since you know me_

_ I was a lonely soul but that's the old me_

_ It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face_

_ I've been everywhere and back trying to replace_

_ Everything that broke till my feet went numb_

_ Praying like a fool just shot the gun."_

"Keep going, PR, sing another song," Gregg says. I stop singing at first, surprised, but take a breath and begin a new song:

_"Here I am waiting_

_ I'll have to leave soon_

_ Why am I holding on?_

_ We knew this day would come_

_ We knew it all along_

_ How did it come so fast?"_

We find the perfect cave, hidden behind a waterfall and big enough for all of us. It's pretty warm and keeps out the harsh wind. The walls are adorned with paintings. The floor is mossy and cracked. The back is dark, but warmest.

I don't know whether to stop singing or not, so I take a guess and continue.

_"This is our last night but it's late_

_ And I'm trying not to sleep_

_ Because I know, when I wake, I will have to slip away_

_ And when the daylight comes I'll have to go_

_ But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close_

_ Because in the daylight we'll be on our own_

_ But tonight I need to hold you so close."_

Gregg sighs. "Please, keep singing. You're so good at it and it makes me feel better."

_"Where there is desire_

_There is gonna be a flame_

_Where there is a flame_

_ Someone's bound to get burned_

_ Just because it burns_

_ Doesn't mean you're gonna die_

_ You gotta get up and try, and try, and try_

_Gotta get up and try, try, try_

_ You gotta get up and try, try, try."_

Now I decide to make one up of my own: a special song that I'm going to call _Free Run. _I decide to make it up for Quinn and for Ian and for these awful Games and for Katniss and mother and father and everyone that I love, even Haymitch and Effie, because without these people I would not have anything.

_"Teardrops dry sobs red eyes _

_ Ripped clothes cracked lips broken heart_

_ A girl of many colors _

_ Faded to nothing but gray_

_ Her eyes filled with water_

_ Her best friend gone_

_ Her family nowhere to be found_

_ Her music but a sad song_

_ Everything is ruined, torn_

_ Everything is messed up, worn_

_ "Breaking the barrier_

_ Finally running_

_ Hair of fire eyes of light_

_ Finally flying_

_ Voice of angel's dress of moonbeams_

_ Finally leaping_

_ Finally singing_

_ Finally laughing_

_ Finally winning_

_ "No one is anything without a family_

_ Anything without a friend_

_ Anything without a home_

_ Without you would end_

_ No one is anything without peace_

_ Anything without smiles_

_ Anything without love_

_ Without you wouldn't last awhile_

_ "Ablaze is her name_

_ Fire is her home_

_ Flame is her clothes_

_ Light is her eyes_

_ Smoke is her wings_

_ Steam is her laugh_

_ Glimmer is her smile_

_ Quinn is her identity."_

Gregg smiles at me through tears. "Beautiful," he whispers, "beautiful."

"No—it really wasn't—but thanks."

"You're just like Katniss." Ian's arm wraps around my shoulders. Suddenly I can't breathe.

_Don't screw this up Primrose! _

I smile up at him.

"Let's settle back. Forget death for awhile. I don't mean this negatively—forget Quinn," Ian says warily. "I'm starving."

"I'm parched," I reply, gently unhitching myself from his grasp.

_ Does he like me? Well, he likes me, but does he have feelings for me? He might! Oh my god, what if he DOES? What'll I do? Quinn's not here to talk about it. Oh my god. Oh my god. But what if he doesn't? What then? Do I WANT him to have feelings for me? Oh my god! What if he LOVES me? How do I reply? Does he want to KISS me? I can't KISS someone! Oh my god, what if we get MARRIED? Oh my god. Peeta and Katniss got married! Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god…this is NOT good…or is it? I CAN'T TELL!_

I crawl over to the water bottles, my ankle aching but not unbearably painful. Then I hobble over to the fall, which is now donned Torrential Diamonds, and fill them. Finally I squeeze some iodine drops into the bottles.

While the half hour passes, Gregg tells us of surfing in 4. I wonder if the Capitol is blocking this part from prying viewer eyes. They don't allow you to trek from district to district, and we're not supposed to know of other district information or news. If he's afraid of the Capitol punishing him for telling us, he's not showing it. His eyes are happy for the first time since Quinn's death.

I study Gregg's face. He has huge sea-green eyes, probably like the ocean in 4. His hair is auburn, a rusty orange-red. It's blonde in places, where the sun has kissed it especially. His skin is a caramel color, tan and in some places, sunburned. His nose is painted with freckles. I'll bet everyone in 4 has freckles. Gregg's body is muscular, probably from swimming or training so hard. His hands are callused and rough. He is handsome, but cute in almost a little-boy way, since his eyes are so big.

Ian is different. His hair is dark brown, chocolate in color. It's longish and slightly curly. His eyes are a brilliant, rich emerald-green. They're big and beautiful and I find myself lost in them all too often. His cheeks are always rosy, like he's cold. Ian's body is skinnier, but still strong. His hands are slender and agile. They can lift logs but write cursive letters. Ian's lashes are long and black and I can't help but wonder how they don't get tangled up when he closes his eyes.

_Does Ian ever study me?_

_ No, probably only Emily._

_ Yeah._

I stuff my fingers in my jumpsuit pockets. My fingers brush a piece of paper, and my stomach rises and drops at the same time in excitement.

_Peeta's note!_

"Guys, guys, look! Jeez, I'm stupid, I forgot all about Peeta's note!" I whip it out and hold it up. It's written on lined paper, folded into fourths neatly.

"Holy crud, PR, you forgot to show us?" Gregg says mockingly, smiling.

"Open it, Primrose!" Ian pleads.

I fumble with it, my fingers trembling with cold and anticipation.

The note reads:

_ Codes can be helpful when you want to keep things away from prying eyes._

_ ~You-Know-Who_

Down a few lines, letters are jumbled all over the place.

_Hbteawyalrle jfeldohowdws. Yai ageakmoelmwaikyeqr ywpidltl gbre dsiehnodqixnzg stwhpebm oiun fsgohozn. Ytohle dswatfqelsot ipoliatcie wyihlal rbte htohpe kboilg jmioeutnltoaeiln ltyoap. Hgoelt htehtelrae znxosw._

_ Space. _

I set the note down and look back at Gregg and Ian, who have been reading over my shoulder. "Peeta," I mouth, not wanting the Capitol to hear. They nod, knowing he was my mentor.

"Space," I say aloud. "Space…"

"I know." Gregg's face breaks into a smile. He bends down and whispers to me, "I know these types of codes. I know them."

Then he takes the paper from me. He studies it for awhile. Then he gestures for us to come closer together.

"It says, 'Beware floods. A Gamemaker will be sending them in soon. The safest place will be the big mountain top. Get there now.' The space means what type of code it is."

"Oh my gosh," Ian whispers, aghast. Then he jumps over to start collecting our things. "We've got to get going!" he hisses.

Instantly Gregg and I climb to our feet.

We've got a long hike ahead of us.


	6. Chapter 6

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 6_

**A/N: Hey guys! Merry Christmas! It was Christmas yesterday here, and I got Barnes & Noble gift cards, baby! I'm gonna get The Fault in Our Stars. Is it good? I've heard wondrous things about it. I hope you enjoy Ch. 6!**

Chapter 6—The Scent of Blood

Ian's POV

Primrose is beautiful in the midnight light of the moon. Her eyes are big and bright and full of stars. Her voice is like the whispering wind: faraway and soft.

"We've got to go!" I hiss at Gregg and her, who keep staring at the note and each other as if they're waiting for an explosion. "Get going! Come on!"

Primrose snaps out of it first. She begins collecting the contents of the black bag and of our fire. Gregg scoops up the blue pack and the note is tucked safely inside of it. I start draw the map from the pack and check the nearest route to the top of the mountain.

We'll have to go through the rocky incline to get there fast enough. I don't know when the floods are coming. Peeta's note said that a Gamemaker's working on it.

I'm nervous about climbing the rocks without a harness. I was never very good at the Rock-Climbing Station in training, and that was with a safety rope. Here there's no room for error. Plus, we'll be easy targets for other snipers, like the one that killed Quinn.

I realize that we're halfway through the Games. Is that right? Thirteen dead? Yeah.

Primrose steps over to me and lays a hand on my shoulder gently. Just the expression on her face tells me she knows what I'm thinking.

I study Primrose's face. Her eyes are sky blue, like a midsummer's afternoon. They're big and intelligent and framed by long lashes. Her cheekbones are high and her cheeks themselves are rosy, like she's been outside in January all day. Her hair is a brown-blonde. "Dirty" blonde just isn't the way to describe it. It's more of a blonde that's been interwoven with brown. It's in two low ponytails. Her signature hairstyle. It's just breathtaking on her. And her nose wears a bridge of sunburn, since she's outside so much.

There's no other possible adjective: she's beautiful.

Not adorable, not cute, not pretty. Beautiful. Fierce. Ready to win.

"Halfway," she whispers, her eyes shining. I can tell she's allowing herself to think that she might be able to win. "My god."

I squeeze her hand, energy coursing through me. Her smile could light up a thousand Panems. And I like her touch. Her feel. Her smell. She smells like baking bread from the bakery and cherry blossoms like the ones they sell in the florist shop. She smells like a spring day.

And when she hugs me, I feel my whole body relax and tense up at the same time. Her hair tickles my shoulder and neck. Her arms wrap around my waist and my arms wrap around her shoulders. We just stand together, holding each other, for a few seconds.

Gregg clears his throat. Primrose's head whirls to face him. "Give me a minute," she says gently to him, turning back to me. "I really need to tell you something—"

_"No time!"_ Gregg hisses, gesturing to the mountain. "Tell him later, PR, please. We really need to go!"

"Fine." Her face crumples. "Let's go then." She grabs the black pack, straps it to her shoulders, and walks out of the cave, Gregg close behind her with the blue pack. I take the map to guide us.

Something falls out of the black pack. Primrose's journal. I pluck it from the ground and call ahead, "Primrose? This fell out of your pack."

Her head turns. "Oh. I guess I forgot to keep writing in it."

"Mind if I look—"

"No, Ian!" She eyes the book with apprehension. "Oh, jeez no. Give it to me."

I hand it back to her, wondering why the heck she'd want to keep me from seeing it.

The terrain starts getting rougher as the mountain enters our sights. It's huge. I can see it'll take at least three days to make it to the top, and that's minimum. We might still be on the ground when this flood comes. My heart races. I can't swim. Can Primrose? Probably not. Oh, jeez…we might die of this flood…

Primrose glances back at me. Her face, tight with perseverance, softens at the sight of my fear. She slows so I can keep up with her, and soon we're walking side by side, Gregg leading us.

"Hey."

"Hi," I reply quietly. My vision is weird, due to my anxiety overcoming me. I have anxiety issues. I get way too nervous. Before the reaping I was a wreck. After the reaping I was a _train_ wreck.

"You know we're going to make it." Her voice is forceful, commanding. "You know that."

"Uh-huh." A drop of sarcasm enters my voice and I can see she's frightened by that.

"Ian," she starts, and my heart flutters against my chest. It's the way she can say my name. It's wonderful. "We can do this. We just need to keep going. Don't stop now. We're halfway—more than halfway—through. We've got a fighting chance. We've got this!"

"But only one can win," I point out, the words like poison in my mouth. Her face drops.

"I—I guess I haven't—really thought of that," she says softly, her voice losing all means of cheerfulness and strength. "Oh my god, Ian…"

My stomach turns. I either survive and return to my family or die and let Primrose live. I hate the fact that the answer is not immediately #2. I know Primrose would pick my life over her life any day.

I need to let her know about how I feel, and fast. Before my time runs out. Because I love her. I really do. And I can't let that pass up.

"Primrose," I whisper, and her eyes close. "I need to tell you something too." I take a breath. "I think I—"

A cannon boom tears the air apart. Gregg looks wildly around. His eyes rest on a splash of blood a few feet away, where a body lies. It wasn't there a moment before.

The body belongs to the district 3 boy. He's been thrown a good twenty feet. But from what?

The bushes ahead of us rustle and quiver. I shield Primrose with my body. She pushes in front of me. Her eyes say _not today_. I hope mine read _any day._

The district 1 girl steps out. I remember her name from Training. Eleanor. She's very good-looking: lush, dark hair and dazzling caramel-colored eyes. In her hands is a horrible, huge spiked mace. It's wet with blood.

"Hello there," she says, her voice smooth and cold, falsely happy. "I see I've found you."

"Eleanor," Gregg voices loudly.

"Gregory," is her reply. "You've been holing up with children?" Her laugh is icy. "How dear. Where's Jordan?"

"Quinn's dead. I assume you know that, sending out your sniper to kill her." His words are tight and clipped, and he fingers a knife. Eleanor spies them.

"Oh, no. I've got this, and I'm not afraid to use this. You've seen my work, eh? Poor, defenseless little tribute," she simpers, sighing down at the district 3 boy. He can't be older than I. "It's a shame, really, that I have to become a murderer to win—which I will."

Gregg's eyes meet mine, and I see a plan forming. The tiniest of jerks applies to his head. Telling me to inch behind Eleanor. His fingers are still at his knife, and I pull out one as well. My spear is gone. Somewhere it's still in the sniper's body.

I take a small step. Gregg makes sure to keep her eyes on him. "Eleanor. Sweet, sweet Eleanor. It's no shame; that I know for sure. You volunteered."

"So?" She laughs that freezing laugh again. "I need the fame. The fortune. The _future._" Eleanor's eyes shift to Primrose. "Oho! Look at this one! Miss Everdeen! I've seen your sister fight." She strides over to Primrose and fingers her ponytail. "You're so—_innocent._" Eleanor's grip contracts on the mace's handle.

I risk five steps. Eleanor doesn't even hear me. She's still occupied with my beautiful flower. And anger is heating my face. She's _teasing Primrose. _

_Don't you dare mess this up, Ian. Don't try anything. Don't try ANYTHING._

But I can't resist it.

I give a scream of fury and charge her, my knife blade pointed straight for her back. Eleanor doesn't even have time to turn around before the weapon is in and out.

Blood, luscious and red, dribbles from her back. I yell louder and aim for her throat, her back. Red everywhere. My hands, her body. She's still alive, though, and that makes me even more furious. I slice at her head, her stomach, her chest. Red. Red is all I see. It's warm. The scent of blood. The scent of blood fills my nose. It's overpowering. Blood smells like metal and salt and rust. The scent of blood. _Blood. I'm like a vampire._ And when I look up at Primrose, and her horrified expression, I see her face, flushed in the color of blood.

"I-Ian," she stutters. "Why? _Why?_" And then she runs over to Eleanor, who's barely hanging onto life. "I'm so sorry, Eleanor…you never deserved to die this way…"

"Look…at…me…" Eleanor whispers through bloody lips. "You're…beautiful…"

A tear falls onto Eleanor's face. "Thank you, Eleanor, you are too…"

A smile, pained but pure, issues on her scarred face. "I'm…sorry…" And a cannon boom echoes in my ears.

Primrose's look of pure disgust is directed toward me.

"You're _sick!_" she screams. "How the _heck_, how the _heck_ did you think that was _freaking okay?_ NO ONE SHOULD DIE THAT WAY!" Her breathing is rapid and tears run down her face. "You idiot! YOU IDIOT! You massacred a girl! You should've just stabbed her the one time, you heartless monster! Not ten million times!" She turns her back, puts her arms on her shoulders. "I can't believe you…"

"For what?" I say, aghast. "For saving you guys?"

"Ian, you don't get it…no one should die that way, in that much pain." Her sniffs break my heart. "Even someone horrible shouldn't die in a horrible way."

_Even someone horrible shouldn't die in a horrible way._

I sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"No, I am." Her voice shatters me. It's cold. And angry. And disappointed. And sad. All rolled up into one big package of icy loathing. But as soon as she glances back, spots my expression, she just shakes her head. "You better watch it, Ian Reseda," she says quietly.

And I fight the urge to laugh. She sounds just like my old schoolteacher. But if I look happy, she might not believe my apologies. So I pipe down and walk for awhile.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

Three cannons, one after another. We whip our heads around, scanning for more Careers. But no. No Careers. My heart drops into my feet and my stomach rises into my throat.

Water.

The floods are here.


	7. Chapter 7

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 7_

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm really sorry about the wait on those chapters. My fanfiction kept giving me 503 sever malfunction messages for two straight days. I was really upset—super worried that I wouldn't be able to continue **_**PD.**_** But good news—I can! Enjoy ch. 7! :) **

Chapter 7—The Two Waves

Prim's POV

My first instinct, after hearing the water, is _tree._ We'll never make it to the mountain. I need a tree.

Ian's face is _pure _fear. "I can't SWIM!" he yells to me over the roar of the wave, fifty yards behind us. "I can't do it!"

"Just take my hand! Where's Gregg?" I shout back. He shakes his head.

"I don't know!"

"Okay, then, just follow me!" I scan the surroundings for a thick tree. It has to be tall. There's pretty wide one, but it's not tall enough. I don't see any taller, however, so I just pull Ian toward that one. "Climb!" I order, starting myself. He thrusts himself upward, rapidly skimming branch after branch. I'm at the top when he's three-quarters of the way there. "Hurry!" I call down, watching his fingers fumble.

_Gregg, I'm so sorry…I hope you make it out alive…_

"C'mon, Ian!"

He outstretches his hand and I take it, pulling him to my position. "Brace yourself!" The wave is going to either miss us by an inch or completely submerge us.

Ian pulls me into a tight hug. He's shaking. Or is it me? I can't tell.

_If I die, I want you to know that I love you._

I bring his face close to mine. His eyes shimmer. "I love you," I whisper. I'm not even sure that he hears me until I feel his lips upon mine.

It's lovely. I kiss him passionately, so passionately that I forget that we're about to die. His hands are at my waist, mine in his hair. His lips are soft and taste of sweat and sadness and I can't get enough. His mouth works with mine perfectly, like he's rehearsed this. I don't even care if it's with Emily. It doesn't matter. He knows. _He knows!_

He draws away first, but I need him. So, naturally, I pull him in for another kiss. I need him like I need water. He's my drug. The more I get, the more I want.

Kissing him is like heaven. It's just wonderful. Everything, every emotion I feel, every tear I've shed and every yell I've uttered, the anger I felt as his massacre, is poured into this kiss. This one is no match for the first, however, when I murmured those words and he just dove in. It was a risk. On both parts. But I'm so glad he was willing to take it.

We're underwater.

The wave did submerge us. But I don't let go of him. _You're not dying! Never, as long as I live (which might not be very long) are you going to die!_

I imagine the Capitol audience, their eyes watering and their hearts fluttering at the Young Lovers. I hope what worked for Katniss and Peeta will work for us. I can't leave him. Ever. _Ever._

_ Lips on lips_

_ Eye on eyes_

_ I was always afraid_

_ But with you it just flies_

_ Never dying_

_ Always alive_

_ I was always afraid_

_ But with you I'm not shy_

I try and kick to the surface of the wave. _The two Waves, _I think, almost laughing. The salt's in my eyes and the water's in my lungs, but still I swim with all my might. My fist is still in Ian's shirt. I pull him to the surface as well. The main wave has passed, and I can't even see our tree. But hundreds of other little waves rocket toward us.

Ian's still conscious, thank god, but he doesn't look too good. "B-b-breathe, I-Ian," I stutter, supporting him. "J-j-just b-b-breathe."

He takes a few gulps of air, as do I. It stings my aching lungs. Everything happened so fast. It's unbelievable.

_Boom. Boom._

Five dead as a result of this wave. Is Gregg one of them? No, probably not, he can swim. But who else? Maxine? Kyle? Adrianna? Cal?

_Boom._

Six. Okay. Half of the half that was left is gone. So only five remain.

And quite suddenly, the water stills. My black backpack seems to be waterproof, thank god, since the map and food are inside, but the blue one, the one containing the flashlight, blood, water bottles, and—worst of all—iodine, is sopping wet. If we're going to drink, we'll need some help from Haymitch.

I tread water. "Come on, Ian, just kick your arms and circle your legs—I mean, kick your legs and circle your arms…" My voice is weak from exhaustion. I can't keep it up much longer.

The parachute is floating, silver, on the surface. I duck underwater for a moment to open it.

A floatation device, circular and doughnut-shaped, inflates instantly. I grab onto it and rise to the surface. The note, encased in a plastic bag, is clutched in my other fist.

"Ian, get on this! Just paddle—paddle over…"

I yank him onto the device. We rock slightly on the wave-ridden surface.

_We're alive. We're alive._

_ We're alive. We're alive._

_ We're alive. We're alive._

That's all that runs through my head as I fall asleep.

Ian's POV  
Primrose dozes off instantly. My brain, sodden and spinning, tries to take in all that's happened.

_We almost died._

_ But we didn't._

_ Primrose loves me._

_ We kissed._

_ A wave came._

_ But we swam._

_ I climbed a tree._

_ That tree is gone._

I feel so bad for her. She kept me alive, nearly sacrificing herself to do so. Her hair, still in the ponytails, hangs wet and limp. She's worn out. Her breathing is more like gasps, but she sleeps.

I wish I could sleep. The water level's declining, but I'm still keeping watch. The floatation device keeps us up. Otherwise we'd be dead. Long dead.

_I love you._

Those words electrified me. I just looked at her, her beautiful eyes and her splash of freckles and her skin, now tan, and I decided that she needed to know I loved her too.

So I kissed her.

Her mouth was sweet and longing. Her mouth worked just perfectly with mine. I put my hands on her waist and she ran her fingers through my hair. Her lips were so wonderful that I felt like she was somehow putting me under a spell.

I pulled away, regretting it instantly, but she gently pulled me back in. Her mouth was even more demanding, blissfully bringing me to her. And that's when I realized that I never knew how much I loved her.

And then we were encased by water on all sides. Her hand clutched at my shirt, pulling on it. She kept me alive, swimming to the surface. Her feet lost their shoes and I could see them kick madly, propelling us to the air.

Breathing was just painful. It seared my raw lungs and scratched my aching throat. But she saved me. Primrose—her name as beautiful as she—saved my life.

Her lashes flutter slightly and water drips off of her nose.

_Primrose, if I had to choose one person to spend the rest of my life with, it would be you._

_ Would you choose me?_

She has a sister who she loves, a mother who she is so close to, a brother-in-law who she admires, a mother-figure with eccentric outfits who she adores, and a gruff father-figure who she—er—likes.

_Would you choose me? _

_ I would choose you._

"Would you choose me?" I whisper to her, "Would you spend the rest of your life with me over anyone else?"

Her eyes open sleepily. "I would."

I smile and kiss her cheek. "I would spend the rest of my life with you. No hesitation."

"Same here." She yawns and stretches. "Power nap."

"Awesome." I squeeze her hand. "I'm so, so sorry about Gregg."

"Shall we check who's all dead?" she asks, averting the question. I nod. Taking out the slightly-damp map, she checks the six dead.

"Cal, Adrianna, Opal, Jones, Kyle, and—and Jeremy."

"Almost all of the Careers!" I say, aghast. "Maxine and Gregg are the only ones left! Who _is_ left?"

"Maxine, Gregg, us, and Samantha from 9."

She leans back, her hands behind her head, dipping her hair into the water. "We're almost done. I just don't know how Samantha survived. Her training score was a 3. I wouldn't be too worried about her. But _Gregg_—I'm happy he's alive, but we can't make it out without killing him."

"But—but what if it comes down to us? What if we're the final two?"

Her eyes are shining. "We win over the Capitol, like last year, or I have another plan if all goes south."

"Alright then."

She kisses my lips gently. "We're going to make it out together," she whispers, drinking in my face. I kiss her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and her lips, finally.

I'll bet we are.


	8. Chapter 8

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 8_

**A/N: Hey guys! Happy New Year's Eve/New Year! 2014, here we come! I've enjoyed writing this fanfiction so, so much. You guys are my world. You all mean so much to me, your support is phenomenal. I can't express my gratitude. See, though, I got my first criticizing review ****. It's all good, though. They showed me what I need to work on. (New Year's resolution: write **_**10**_** fanfictions over the course of '14. ****)**

**I need ideas for a new fanfic after this one. Please help! ****! Enjoy ch. 8!**

Chapter 8—Everything Has Changed

Prim's POV 

"Ian. Ian, wake up." I jostle his shoulder. He's fallen asleep, and that's good. He needed to sleep. "Ian, c'mon, dude, wake up."

His eyelashes flutter. "No, Mom…I'll go to school next month…"

I laugh, my throat still flaming from the salt. My jumpsuit is soaked.

Did I mention I hate this jumpsuit more than anything?

It's covered in flames, for starters. I'm the freaking _Wave_. Waves don't like _fire_.

I know they're targeting me the same way they targeted Katniss: high training score, various obstacles concerning a nickname, a lover trapped in the Death Dome along with the girl. And I cannot take it any longer.

I wonder if I'm going insane. These Games change us.

I remember the bloodbath. I ticked the deaths off on my fingers even though I was terrified. It was a way for me to learn the strategies of the Careers—but mostly, make sure Ian was alive. I could always have used the map, but I didn't. Did I _want _to see the blood?

My heart races and I start panicking. Am I changing into the dude who went savage? Am I transforming into the girl that lost her mind? Who am I becoming? A psychopath?

The little plastic bag glints in the sun, and I notice the slip of paper inside is dissolving.

_Oh my god, Peeta, you discovered how to destroy the evidence._

I practically rip the note from the container. It stops crumbling instantly. The top parts of the uppermost letters are gone, but I can still tell what it is.

_Prim—_

_ Roughness and cruelness are necessary to the world, since without them we never find our strengths._

_ ~You-Know-Who_

_ Gegrg nda Asm vaeh oinjde rofcse. Hyte nlpa ot hosck oyu twih a srpruies ttcka. Ehecck het pma ftone._

_ Scrambled_

"Peeta, you genius," I whisper, fingering the slightly worn paper slip. I know _this_ code. You just have to unscramble the letters.

I wonder, _how does Peeta manage to get the notes in?_

Then I get it, as a parachute floats down from the arena top. Inside are another note and some explosives. Helpful, but I'm focused on the note. It's a full sheet of paper, not just a three-inch-by-three-inch paper.

The note reads:

_Shine your flashlight on the paper._

I fumble with the light, cranking the meter up to the highest level.

_Invisible ink. It's helpful. VERY helpful._

_ Listen, Prim. If you didn't get my last note (which I won't reveal to you here, you need the practice), then I'll give you the message again on the back of this paper._

_ Right now, you can win this. You need to be serious. Don't worry about you and Ian—we're devising a plan to get you out of there and him as well. Hovercraft. You just need to know how to play dead when the time comes. Remember the girl who stopped her heart for a second or two? You don't have to do this, since Haymitch is working the hovercrafts and we've got the cannon-girl, the one who sounds the cannons, on our side. Haymitch—well. He needs more money for alcohol. _

_ I'm sending Ian a note as well. Don't tell him about this one and he won't tell you about his._

_ Tears may fall. Be strong._

_ We all miss you, Prim. We love you. Katniss has never taken her eyes off the TV, except for when we give her the calming/sleeping drugs._

Ian's note sits in the chute as well, slightly smaller and invisible as well.

"Ian! Ian, seriously. _Wake up!_" I finally give up and kiss his ear. He sits up instantly.

"Jesus Christ, you scare me," he says with a grin, stretching and yawning. He pulls me into a deep kiss. I obey for a few seconds, finally pulling away.

"We have time for that later. Here." I hand him his note. "I got one too. Peeta sent us these." He shrugs and kisses me again. I hold up a finger. "Ian. I'll kiss you after we talk."

He gives a long, exaggerated sigh. "_Fiiiiiine."_

I laugh again. "Just take this and shine it on your paper," I say, handing him the flashlight.

He reads intently. "Oh my god, Primrose!" he says, his eyes alight as he finishes. I know he's excited about us getting out together. "We're going—"

"SHHH!" I hiss, kissing him to shut him up and not make it look suspicious. Pulling away, I whisper, "The Capitol can't know."

"Ohhh. Yes." He makes it so believable. He makes it sound like he's moaning with the pleasure of my kiss.

"Mm-hmm." Then I kiss him for real, my mouth brushing his nose, his cheeks, and his lips.

"Okay, okay," he says with a laugh. "Let's concentrate."

"Samantha and Gregg are on their way. I guess—I guess Gregg really _would_ destroy us to win. How's he teaming up with _Samantha, _anyway?"

"She's probably playing the pitiful girl gone ravage. Like Johanna Mason." He flicks a leaf off his arm. "Wow. Why didn't we think of that?"

I sigh. "I don't know."

Then, suddenly, the water level decreases severely. We flop to the ground, our flotation aide bursting on impact.

"HOLY CRAP!" Ian yells. "Oh my god, oh my god, that gave me a _freaking heart attack!"_

I giggle, madly, with relief that it's not something worse.

We camp in a tree, like in the beginning of the Games. It's comfy, being with him like this, our feet touching and our fingers linked. His eyes shine in the evening light. My lungs have recovered but I'm pretty sure my pupils will permanently be altered. I smile.

"Hey, Reseda, can I ask you a question?" I ask, my voice wary but still strong. I want to ask but I don't want to be rude, either.

"Sure, Everdeen, ask away."

"Do you—do you still—say, if I were to die, would you—would you run back to Emily? I guess—does a part of you still—love her?" My voice becomes thick with tears for some reason, for some dumb, messed up reason. I guess the thought of her—and my Ian—without me, is so horrible to me. Love is the one thing I've always valued so hard.

Ian breathes in, sucking in air and releasing it. I fear the worst.

"Never. Never in a million, billion, trillion, googolplex years would I run back to Emily after meeting you. You're my heart's desire. If I did find another love, I would always catch myself comparing her to you. You're my angel, my light, my rock, my everything. I'm sorry it took so long to realize."

I smile and Kiss him, capital "K". Even though we've only known each other personally for a few days, it doesn't matter. That's true love: everything clicks in a matter of a week.

"I'm gonna rest," I say, my eyelids heavy. "Wow, that's all we've done for awhile, huh?"

"You don't know?" Ian asks, sounding puzzled.

"Know what?"

"They insert sleep syrup into the water to slow the tributes down." He rolls his eyes. "They suck."

"Yeah."

"I wore most of it off, but you…you didn't. So rest." I raise an eyebrow, suddenly not wanting to sleep. "Jeez, just _rest_!" He lays my head down on his lap, just like when I rested him on my leg when he had food poisoning.

I fall asleep, and my dreams are horrible.

_I see Ian, drowning in the Cornucopia, which is balancing on its tip, the tip on the end. For some reason, I am laughing. I also appear to be Eleanor. I'm covered in blood and my head and back—still bleeding._

_ "Prim—rose—help—!" I just laugh a horrible laugh. It's high and cold, no trace of happiness detectable._

_ I—the real Primrose—am tied to a stake, slowly catching on fire. I hear myself scream and shriek and beg for mercy. The Primrose in Eleanor's body just laughs and laughs about it all._

_ Ian splutters and gasps as finally he grabs a hold on the Cornucopia. _

"_Oh, just DROWN already, idiot." I attempt push him back under, causing him to scream. Just laugh, that's all I do._

_ He ducks under the water, splashing me with it._

_ Suddenly I'm Quinn, diving in to help him, my fiery hair literally ablaze as I jump into the golden horn. The laugh continues as I am thrust underwater by what seems to be an invisible hand._

_ We're both choking on our own water…but that's impossible, there's no water in the horn…_

_ And then I'm me, watching all of this as I slowly roast. The fire under my feet looks just like Quinn's hair…and I'll die now as soon as I revealed to Ian my feelings…_

_ Darkness clouds my eyes and I see myself slump forward. A cannon rips the air apart. Eleanor—me—gives a high-pitched cry of success. My bleeding and scarred hand thrusts Quinn and Ian underneath the surface of the water, which keeps switching between water vapor and water liquid…the water vapor so thick that it fills their lungs like regular water would._

_ Ian screams so loud and hard at the sight of the dead me that it hurts the me-Eleanor's ears._

_ "Quiet!" I scream, forcing him underwater and this time tying a weight to his foot, somehow and someway. He doesn't reappear and a cannon booms. Eleanor/Primrose yells triumphantly._

_ Quinn keeps fighting, fighting like a warrior. Her hair is still lit underwater and then the water switches to water vapor one last time…it multiplies by three as it clouds around the Cornucopia, never escaping into the air…and Quinn sucks it in, believing that it's air, but that's the end of her too as she falls, lips blue and hair finally sputtering out, and a cannon screams in my ears._

_ And then finally Primrose/Eleanor drops like a sack of potatoes, blood pooling all around her from the knife-marks Ian caused._

_ all is gone._

I sit straight up, screaming. My head is sweaty and my throat is wet, like I too was underwater and drowning. My feet burn but my head aches. I fumble around blindly.

"Primrose! Primrose, shh, it's okay! I'm here. I'm here for you." Ian's voice soothes me instantly. _He's okay. Oh my god. He's okay. _"What happened?"

"Dream—me—Eleanor—Quinn—you—Copia—drowning—fire—dead, all dead!" I can hardly speak through the shock and fear. That's the worst dream I've ever had in my life, besides the ones about losing Katniss and Mother and Dad. Maybe this one tops even those, since all of the people in my dream were—or are—damageable, since we were in the Death Dome.

Ian kisses me softly, gently. I welcome it and find myself in his arms, his lips brushing my cheeks. I don't want cheek pecks. I want long, long kisses with the lips, the lips.

So I pull him down to me and kiss him so hard, so fiercely, so long that when I break apart my lips ache. But he smiles.

"I've always wanted to do that with you."

I smile back, my heart still fairly fast.

All is well until the first knife sticks in the tree trunk.


	9. Chapter 9

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 8_

**A/N: Okay, guys, major spoiler alert: THIS WILL BE THE LAST CHAPTER IN THE ARENA! :D! I'm really excited about the last three or four chapters. (There will be like three more chapters, plus an epilogue.) Something big is going to happen at the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next chapter! And you may cry! Or laugh! Depending on how much how like this particular character! I know I'm going to be bawling as I write it…anyway, enjoy ch. 9!**

Chapter 9—Forever and Always

Ian's POV

"Ian!" Primrose shrieks as I rifle through the blue backpack.

"Hmm? What's up?" I say, slightly frustrated as I can't find the Gamemaker's Map. We _need _that map to find where Samantha and Gregg are. "What is it, Primrose?"

"HELP!"

I whirl around to find her dodging flying knives.

"WHAT THE—" I am cut short by a knife that soars through the air and nearly embeds itself in my calf. "Oh my god, Primrose, oh my god!"

"I know, I know!" She sobs/screams; half crying and half yelling her head off. "They've got the map, that's how they f-found us! Gregg stole it from us when he left!"

"YOU LITTLE TRAITOR!" I bellow down to Gregg. I grab the knife and hurl it back down at the two. I miss by a few feet. I'm too nervous to get a good grip.

"Aha, lookit the little _Twelvies._" It's the first time I've ever heard Samantha talk, but she's gorgeous. Platinum blonde hair, perfect posture, nice curves and even from here I can see the color of her eyes: a bright hazel. I instantly feel guilty, through the fear, for observing her so. Primrose is a million times more beautiful.

Samantha's voice is musical and sweet, but dripping with sarcasm. I can't stand it: it's like a too-sweet, artificial cookie or cupcake. What the heck? I'm comparing people to desserts now. _Great job, Ian._

Primrose gasps loudly as a knife nearly slices her chest in two. How the heck did Samantha learn to throw like that? How does she get it to shift downward like that?

"Primrose! PRIMROSE!" I yell, tossing her one of the knives. She grabs it but hops over to me, avoiding another blade. How many do they freaking _have?_

The awful truth washes over me as I check the black pack. No weapons. We've been robbed by Gregg. Not much food and no water. We'd barely make it a day, if we've got that good fortune.

Primrose clutches my hand. I whisper "I love you" and "I won't let you die" over and over again. Her hand trembles ever so slightly and I'm awed and comforted by her strength.

"I love you too, Ian," she says, firm and sweet. I love that about her. And she kisses my cheek, jumps away, and yells, "Gregg! Listen! Are you listening?"

"Yeah, PR, I am." His voice is cracked and broken, like he's actually _upset_ about this. I suppose that stealing from us and trying to kill us was an accident, and that we're all going to hug it out and love each other forever, right?

"I thought you were my _friend._" She sounds disgusted, angry, heartbroken, and horrified. "I thought I could trust you. I thought you would keep us safe. And I looked up to you.

"That was a mistake. Quinn would've stopped you. Quinn would've begged and cried and eventually you would've stayed on our team. Quinn is probably _disgusted_ by you, Gregg. She loved me and I loved her. I can't freaking _believe_ you would _do_ something like this!

"You stole our supplies. You took our means of life and just walked away, ready to form an alliance to kill us! We're missing our food. Our water. Our medicinal supplies and our weapons. Our _map._ And I'd be willing to bet my home in Victor's Village that you took them. Go on, empty your pack. Do it."

He looks up, his face miserable, and the contents of his backpack spill onto the earth.

We were right.

Our food, knives, my machete, our water, our iodine, our medicine, our note from Peeta and our map fall to the ground. Gregg drops to his knees as Primrose continues to talk.

"I knew it. I knew you'd taken things the moment Ian couldn't find our map. And I guess I should've expected it. I trusted you. And I forgot: once you're in the arena, you only stick with your best friend or your true love. I lost my best friend. I lost Quinn. And Ian's right here. I forgot: never—NEVER—trust a Career. Quinn was the exception. She was the exception to a load of things: the usual cruelness of Careers, the usual blood-thirst of the tributes, the usual fright and anger of a fight-engager. She was the exception. But you weren't.

"So go ahead. Kill us. Once you're dead, you'll fall into hell or wherever awful dead people go and you'll look up and Quinn will be in paradise, crying over you. You're not worth her. You don't DESERVE her!

"I hope you die alone, you monster."

Primrose hurls the knife down. It cleaves him square in the head and he falls instantly, blood staining the green grass and the thick mud. She covers her mouth with her hand as the cannon sounds, shaking the earth.

"Oh my god, I _hit_ him?! I wasn't—trying—oh my god—Quinn, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She starts to cry. "Oh my god, oh my god, I didn't mean to—oh my god!"

"Don't be sorry," I say soothingly. "Don't be. He wasn't worth it, you're right. He doesn't deserve Quinn."

"My first kill, my first kill, and it was my former ally!" Her sobs are breathy and raspy.

The knives come whizzing up faster and harder. I'd almost forgotten about Samantha. "Holy crap, we've gotta kill her!"

"Oh, no you don't!" Her voice is rabid, furious by the lack of a partner. "You won't kill me! No, no! I'm gonna bring VICTORY to District 9!"

I can imagine the District 9 audiences cheering, their support mad. And that's when the first parachute falls to her. I ready my knife. She readies hers, opening the box, her eyes on me the entire time.

Her hazel eyes flicker down to the contents of that box, and they light up. I throw the knife, but it lands at least half a foot away. It's slippery with my sweat and Primrose's little "oh" scares me.

"Last knife," she mouths, holding it up. I sigh. "Give it," I mouth back. She shakes her head. "I'll throw," she replies, talking this time. "I can do it."

"Oh, jackpot!" Samantha cries triumphantly, making Primrose go white.

"She was the voice in my dream!" she says frantically, starting to shake. "Crap, Ian, I can't do this!"

"Here! Give it to me!" I yell, and she throws it at me in a spasm of fear. Thank god, I catch it, but Samantha's already one step ahead.

Her sticks of dynamite glow bright red. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god!" Primrose screams, going even paler. "HOLY MOTHER OF GOD SHE'S GOT DYNAMITE!"

I attempt to run and shield Primrose but I'm too late.

_ The dynamite explodes. _She falls out of the tree and lands on the earth. "IAN!" she shrieks before tripping on the wire that—now that I see it—encircles the tree.

"PRIMROSE!" I call, jumping down. But Samantha's gotten there first, and she knocks Primrose out with a single punch to the head. I stop short, watching the silver blade touch my love's chest ever so slightly.

"Back off or she dies!" Samantha hisses, her face flecked with blood, dirt, and sweat. "Drop your knife." When I do not obey, she cuts the front of Primrose's jumpsuit open, revealing the black undershirt underneath it. I drop my knife at my feet. "Kick it to me, cutie," she whispers, almost insane with happiness. "Kick it. Now."

I kick it with all my might toward her foot. She smiles through cracked lips. "Goodie."

"Let her go. Take me, I'd rather die!" I say, tears running down my cheeks. "Don't kill her, don't kill her!"

"Oh no; she's dying. I just can't believe I fooled you. She was going to die anyway, handsome! You just care for her too much. You'd do anything for her—clearly you'd even kill yourself. You'd destroy the world. You have to learn to _let go!_ You can't save her every time." Her voice is flooded with emotional joy. "I just can't believe I'm going to win!"

The knife slashes through the air, almost in slow motion…I leap forward, knocking the knife askew…it slices through Primrose's arm but doesn't stop there…it embeds itself in Samantha's chest, where it sticks.

"No—please—no—9—" The cannon sounds and I rush forward to check Primrose's arm.

It's bloody, dirty, and obviously contributing to the fact that _SHE WON'T MOVE!_

The hovercraft appears overhead. I didn't even watch it pick up Gregg's body. I was too focused on Primrose…and now we're being plucked from the earth from a giant claw…Haymitch is in the front seat…medics rush to bandage us…Katniss is sobbing her gratefulness into my chest…Peeta claps me on the back…Logan and Lauren are cheering madly…and Effie's on the phone, apparently arguing with someone.

We land and we're rushed into a hospital. Of course. We're going to have to stay here for a week, at most, the doctors tell us.

"You did it, kid," Haymitch says gruffly, clapping me on the back. "You did it."

I look up at him, my eyes wide. "So did you."

He smiles. "I was trying to be humble."

"And so you were." I laugh slightly, my insides still churning at the thought of Primrose, poor Primrose, alone in a room, being operated on by masked creeps. Three veins were cut, they told us.

"Hey, kid, I know you're young…but if you love this girl—you could do worse—don't let her go. I—they'll rip her from your hands," he says, a silvery look crossing his face, kind of like he's dreaming. "They took my sweetheart, not to mention my mother and little brother…anyway, good job, Ian."

I stare after him as he walks away, pity filling me.

_One week later—out of the hospital_

Prim's POV

"Ian! IAN!" I yell as I run out of the hospital. "Ian—oh god—oh god—" I encase him in a hug, kissing him and just radiant. We survived. _We survived! _

I'd been blacking out off and on for awhile when I was in the hospital, the pain in my arm so intensely horrible. Ian saved me. She would've stabbed me straight in the heart, but he was a genius, smacking the knife aside.

"Thank you Ian thank you oh my god you saved me I love you!" I say in a rush, a burst of energy fireworking out of me.

"Oh, you saved me, though, many more times—you kept me alive in the arena," he says shyly, brushing his bangs out of his brilliant eyes. I smile from ear to ear, and Ian kind of stares at me. "You're beautiful," he whispers, and I grin even harder.

"Thanks." They went full-on body polish and hair styling on me.

"It's not just the makeup," he says quietly, as if he's reading my mind, "it's the fact that you're brighter than the sun on waves, Wave."

"Reseda…" I sigh with giddiness. "You're so—what's the word they use nowadays? _Hot._"

His bangs have grown into his eyes. He got tan in the arena, which only compliments his beautiful green eyes, shimmering like glitter in the wind. I can only feel my heart flutter every time I look at him.

He links his fingers with mine and kisses my nose. I shift my face so that instead of pecking my cheek he misses and hits my lips instead. Giggling as I pull away from the gentle embrace, I say, "Too slow."

"I'd be too slow every time if it meant kissing you," he breathes.

"Are you shy around people?" I tease. "So you can reveal your love to me in front of millions, but not around my sister?"

"Hey, hey, romance deserves privacy," he teases back. And we kiss again. _Thirteen isn't too young. No way._

The journal! Oh god, I forgot all about it. I only wrote in it two times—or was it three? I guess I'm not much of a writer. I can't even keep a journal for three days! I laugh anyway.

The feeling of being with Ian is so wonderfully torturous. It's like having a million butterflies in your stomach, cotton in your brain, and a drum for a heart. I love it. I love it, but it also doesn't let me be myself around him—and that's the weirdest part.

I pull him toward the fountain that sits in the middle of the hospital's Rec Yard. It's basically a circle of benches, adorned by flower patches, surrounding this fountain. I like it. It's peaceful.

Ian and I sit so close our shoulders touch. I turn my head to face him. "Hey."

"Hey."

I fight the urge to kiss him again. I have some serious-talk right now.

"Emily."

He sighs. "I know. I feel bad, but—but I _love_ you, Primrose, and I honestly would never even _consider_ Emily after you."

"She's probably heartbroken."

"Then why isn't she in the hospital?" He attempts a joke. I stare at him blankly. "Okay. Not funny. I know, I know, okay? But what do I do? Leave you and chase after her again?"

"No! No, not at all! I'm just saying, you should keep the peace. Don't be rude but—please don't go back to her." I plead with my eyes. "Please understand."

"Oh, I do." He grins and kisses me passionately. "You want me."

I wrap my arms around him. "_You_ want _me_."

He runs a hand along my cheek. "Of course I do."

"But we're thirteen."

"Does age matter?"

"No. I just think—we've got a long future ahead of us." I nuzzle him with my head, laying it on his shoulders. He takes my hand. We just sit, staring at the shower of water issuing from the clay construction. I see mermaids, fish, and seashells carved into the grayish-whitish surface, and it's quite a sight. I see coins glittering from the bottom, under the water, and I smile. I pull a quarter from my pocket, get up, and make my wish.

_I wish that Ian and I are together for all eternity._

I throw the coin in and turn back.

"What'd you wish for?" Ian asks, genuinely serious.

"I can't tell, because if you tell it doesn't come true." I sigh. "Man, the rules nowadays, huh?"

"So harsh."

"Mr. Reseda?" Effie calls, her voice raspy, like she's been crying. Katniss is behind her, her eyes glassy with tears. Haymitch looks pitiful. Peeta seems to be battling an internal struggle. "May we speak to you?"

"Sure." He gets up warily, glancing back at me. I get up to follow but Effie shakes her head.

"No, dear, just Ian, thank you. Katniss will inform you, Primrose, of what is happening." Her mascara is smeared and her cheeks are red. "Please, we must talk to him."

I'm panicking severely when Katniss and Peeta sit next to me. Ian disappears inside the hospital with Haymitch and Effie.

"Primrose, I'm so sorry this is happening. Ian's—Ian's being relocated to District 10, effective tomorrow." She doesn't hold back, she wants to get it over with.

_Liar liar liar liar liar_

"I know it's hard now but it'll get better, Prim. You'll meet new people. You'll get over it, I know you will."

_Lies lies all lies! Stop lying katniss! _

"Don't lie, Katniss. This is such a sick joke," I say shakily.

"I'm afraid it's true," she says, her voice broken. "But, hey, at least he'll be safe."

I don't care. My heart is racing and my head is spinning and my stomach is churning and my eyes are full of something…water…oh god I'm crying…

And at that moment, I know that she's not lying. I know she's for real. I know this isn't a joke. It's reality.

"Why?" I howl, swearing and cursing life and the Capitol and love itself. "WHY?"

"The Capitol figured out the codes and notes and they thought you were manipulating the Games. As punishment—Ian's going to 10." Katniss shakes her head sadly, sobbing along with me.

Peeta speaks next. "It's my fault. I can't believe it. I was so dumb to try and help you with codes, I should've just done plain-old notes—"

"No, they would've caught you too," Katniss says quietly.

"IanIanIanIanIanIan nonononononononono!"

He's really leaving. He's really going to go to 10, away from his family, friends, and me…oh my god, Ian…

_"The stream winds_

_ Cold and_

_ Blue_

_ Around the mountain_

_ The mountain that hides_

_ A meadow_

_ A meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain_

_ It is a_

_ Refuge_

_ A refuge for life_

_ A refuge for joy_

_ And a _

_ Refuge for_

_ Love_

_ The meadow beyond the_

_ Mountain _

_ Is a like _

_ A slice_

_ Of_

_ Heaven."_

I whisper it softly, my deranged and infuriated and hazy mind forming poem after poem.

_You said_

_ Forever and Always_

_ And I _

_ Believed it so_

_ But now_

_ You're leaving so soon_

_ Why do_

_ You have_

_ To go?_

My heart is going numb with pain. I can't take this!

_Tomorrow the dawn will come_

_ Time will not halt for us_

_ Walking away, your head bowed_

_ My uttered cries of longing_

_ Please don't go, love_

_ My heart can't break again._

I finally just get up and walk. I walk for an eternity. Maybe I could make it to 10. Maybe I could join him. I could go with him; tell the freaking Capitol that if he goes, I go…

_And leave Mother? Peeta? Katniss?_

_ Blood united or hearts entwined? _

"AUGHHHHHHHH!" I scream so loudly, so long, so throat-ripping, heart-wrenching, and blood-curdling that I don't see why I can't just become a part of the scream.

_I met you and everything was perfect_

_ I smiled at you and everything went well_

_ I laughed with you and everything was amazing_

_ I took your hand and everything nothing could quell _

_ Our love_

_ I sat with you and everything just clicked_

_ I whispered words to you and everything was bright_

_ I loved you so and everything was spinning_

_ I kissed you and I finally saw the light_

_ Of love_

_ I cried with you and everything was messed up_

_ I cracked with you and everything was scarred _

_ I screamed with you and everything was too much_

_ I broke with you and everything that was ours_

_ Through love_

_ Just left_

_ Alone_

_ Good_

_ Bye._

I want to kiss him again, feel him again, look at him again, laugh with him again, fight with him again, and just fall in love with him again every time I look at him…

…but he's leaving.

so i can't.


	10. Chapter 10

_Panem's Darling—Chapter 10_

**A/N: Blargh. I'm sad because IAN'S LEAVING!**

**That's all I have to say. Not even gonna say "enjoy ch. 10".**

** Just read already! *SOBS***

Chapter 10—The Last Night

Ian's POV

"Ian."

I return to the bench, horrified and frightened by the words that were uttered so quickly, so quietly. Effie was tearful and Haymitch was slightly angry and they told me everything and then Effie couldn't keep talking since she was crying too hard and Haymitch seemed like 1% pitiful but hey 10 has the best brandy around and then I started yelling that I didn't care how nice the bars were in 10 I just wanted to _stay_ and then I was screaming and kicking and punching and crying with Effie and then they had to force-feed me a calming drug and then I was a little bit better.

"Ian."

Her voice echoes in my head, not tearful, but broken.

"Ian."

She has to say my name three times before I actually comprehend what she's saying. A single teardrop runs down her cheek, her blue eyes full of unshed tears that she's fighting to hold in. Her attempt at a smile is so brave to me.

She holds out a hand, slender and pale, to me. I take it gratefully, kissing it gently. It's quivering slightly and she's been biting her nails.

"Oh, my god, you couldn't even think of _one good thing_ to say about 10?"

She gives a shaky laugh. "Um…10's beer is really good?"

"Shut up! Haymitch told you to say that!"

"No, I heard him scream it over your screams. Heck, people in _4_ heard it." Her eyes dance across the sky, thoughtful. "Okay, okay, something else…I hear they grow phenomenal flowers. They're simply _gorgeous_. They grow all sorts. And I know that they're the livestock district, but I've seen the flowers they grow, due to the fertile farmland, and they're _beautiful._ They grow tulips, roses, carnations, mums, you name it."

"That's wonderful." I smile. She makes things better.

_Not for long._

"I'm sorry." My voice cracks. Her face softens.

"For what? You didn't do anything."

"Yeah, I did. I got relocated. I'm the one leaving. And I should be preventing it, I should be running. But I'm here. I'm here, doing nothing, just biding my time until _oops, time to go!_ And I'm sickening myself with every—freaking—second I don't do anything to help my case. I'm going to be alone in 10, just sitting in a house, all _la dee da just sitting here going mentally insane_, staring out windows and thinking of what could've been if I'd only done something in my life."

"Ian." Her eyes overflow with tears. "You are doing something. You're with me…you're here…" She cuts off, wiping tears with her hand, her breaths raspy and uneven. "You did do something in your life. You won the Games. With me. I thought—I thought that was enough.

"God, Primrose, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—I wasn't trying—"

Great. I've hurt her feelings. She's right. I am doing something. I did do something. I fell in love. And that's the most any person could do.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's my fault, really, taking out the note in the first place. Peeta was only trying to help, and I guess I should've known better, that the Capitol would devise something. I think it's revenge on Katniss, seeing her sister struggle like this…"

"Don't blame yourself."

I lean over and kiss her. We fall into each other, marching to our own beat, the beat that goes _thump thump _like the beat of a heart. We catch stars and dance on the moon and kiss on the sun; we run on the ocean and laugh on the wind and smile on the sky in that kiss. We're back in the arena, underwater in that wave in that kiss. And for just a few moments, I forget about going to 10. I forget about being relocated and alone for the rest of my life and just take her hand and run with her, spinning her around in the Meadow and dancing forever on a ray of the sun, her blue eyes so wide, never shedding another tear again…

"You know, if you're going to become a Haymitch, 10's the place to be," she whispers, and I laugh so hard that I fall off of the bench. She laughs at the sight of me, and soon we're both laughing so hard that some must mistake them for screams, since Effie comes clip-clopping out, her face frantic.

"Oh, thank heavens. I thought something was wrong," she says over the last of our chuckles.

"No, just _light_ening the _mood_," Primrose says in such a voice that I start laughing again.

"Mr. Reseda, please pull yourself together. We need to get you packed. You can visit Ms. Everdeen tonight."

"Oh—um—yes, Ms. Trinket." She smiles at the sound of her new title. Her heels make a _clip-clop-clop-clip_ sound on the ground. I follow her, her dress swishing with a whoosh-whoosh.

"See you tonight," Primrose calls, still laughing slightly.

That's how I know that she's a fighter.

Prim's POV

I fear Ian's fate. I fear he'll go insane, become a Haymitch or even an _Effie, _or a Snow or a Gale.

See, Gale and Katniss had this huge, _huge_ fight before I was reaped. Basically, Katniss thought Gale kept taking more game then she. So she asked him. And I guess he was in a_ horrible_ mood that day, because he just _exploded_. He ranted to her about how he _deserved_ more game, since she had money to buy her own, and how his family was so much bigger so he _needed_ more. And Katniss said that her game was _special_ to her because of Dad, so _of course _she wants game and the butcher's meat is _horrible_ anyway and she _needs_ to trade at the Hob. And Gale _slapped_ her in the face, saying that she was "unbelievable" and "stupid". And he _left_.

We haven't seen him since. Katniss was really torn up about it at first, but eventually she just became _furious_. And Peeta was there to comfort her, and now she never wants to see Gale again.

_Tears are falling_

_ Hopes are crawling_

_ Total heartbreak_

Ian. I A N. My love. My world. Gone. Like that. Snap of a finger—boom—no more Ian.

"Snow, I am going to celebrate the day that you are murdered," I whisper into the darkness of my closet. I'm hiding from life. From my feelings.

I think of a quote from John Green. "That's the thing about pain—it demands to be felt." It's from a really great book. John Green is very wise.

Pain _does_ demand to be felt. It orders to burn you up, then tear you down, then smother you and eventually suffocate you. It beats all except Time. Time is unstoppable, unreachable, and unforgivable. We will all die. We will all perish. But Pain—usually—wears off over time if not disappearing completely. Katniss was healed by Time. Can I be healed as well? Pain is the illness, Time is the drug. Pain is the break, Time is the glue. And I can only hope that this glue is stronger than the ones I've tried: Peace, Emptiness, and Numbness.

_Screams are waking_

_ Thoughts are breaking_

_ Total earthquake_

"Green like his eyes." I smile into the darkness of that closet.

And then I vow to myself.

I

Am

Not

Going

To

Become

Depressed.

That is not an option. That is not a good option that is not an okay option that is not even an almost-bad option. It is the HORRIBLEST option of all. Yes, I know that is not a word. "Horriblest" is just more appealing than "most horrible". It's messed up. Why can't we just save time and say "horriblest" instead of "most horrible." Okay. We're off track.

But seriously? Why not "terriblest" instead of "most terrible"? "Joyfulest" instead of "most joyful"? "Beautifulest" instead of "most beautiful"? It doesn't make sense.

I laugh as I exit the closet, fascinated by my own thoughts, little stars forming the strangest constellations.

My room in the house in Victor's Village (I call my room _Home-Base 0_) is very big but incredibly un-incredible. A bed, a desk, a mirror, two dressers, a rug, and a closet. A TV. There's my room in a nutshell: completely normal.

_Knock. Knock knock. _

"Come in." I hope it's Snow so I can STRANGLE him.

Nope. But the person in my doorframe exceeds all expectations.

"Ian." I'm aware that it's been 5.6 hours since I last saw him and I've been in the closet the whole time. I'm aware that I'm now wearing a dirty T-shirt that has a rainbow on it. I'm aware I'm wearing baggy sweats and Converses that are two sizes too big and that my hair is a rat's nest. I'm aware that I must look insane.

But maybe he isn't.

"Primrose." He walks over, picks me up, and plops me on his back. I laugh with giddiness as he spins around and around, dizzyingly wonderful.

"That—was—awesome." I smile at him as he sets me down on my bed, on my back. "This is the type of stuff I wish I could do for the rest of my life."

"Ditto." His feet touch mine as he lies on the opposite side of my bed. It's quite a big bed. We lie, feet to feet, gazing up at the ceiling which is a horrible checkered pattern.

"So—you know how we love each other? All that jazz?" His voice is slightly broken, but breaking further.

"Yeah, I know…" I'm a bit concerned.

"Well…I'm gonna be leaving…"

"Wow! Why didn't you tell me?" I push my feet against his, the pressure welcome.

"Shut up. Anyway, I was thinking…we're not gonna be able to communicate while I'm there. So—"

He withdraws from his pocket two high-class, very-tech, expensive-looking phones. They've got instant calling.

"Where in the name of Snow himself did you get those?" I say excitedly, fingering the logo on one of them.

"Haymitch, Logan, and Lauren helped me out. They disconnected the trackers in them, hooked them up, and put in the new numbers. You can thank them—"

I'm kissing him so hard, so happily, so wonderfully amazingly perfect that he's nearly knocked off the bed. I keep kissing him as he hands me my phone. I keep kissing him as he stands up. I cling to him, kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing because this is the best thing that's happened to me since we first kissed.

As I draw away an eternity later, he smiles, breathless and seemingly drunk with the alcohol I call love.

"So you'll call me then?"

I smile, tuck my horriblest hair behind my ears, and say, also breathless and seemingly drunk with the alcohol I call love, "Only if we can kiss over the phone."

"It's a deal."

"I was gonna do that no matter what."

He laughs and kisses my forehead.

"That's what I like about you."

"What?"

His green eyes shine as he tells me quietly, "The fact that you're yourself."

I smile and kiss his cheek, wondering how the _heck_ I'm going to survive without him.


	11. Epilogue

_Panem's Darling—Epilogue_

**A/N: This story has been a whirlwind! I loved writing it! I know I said there'd be a few more chapters, but I couldn't figure out what to do with them. It's gotten sad, huh? I know. It's alright, guys, this one will be better. Still sad, but maybe a little bit better, okay?**

** Enjoy the epilogue!**

Epilogue—Last Glance

Prim's POV

The train arrives at 7:00 sharp to pick him up.

It's 5:30 I can't go back to sleep. I've been throwing up constantly from crying and hyperventilating so much. My head is spinning and my dreams are haunted by his eyes.

"Ian…" I moan, starting to sob again. "Ian! IAN!"

Katniss comes into my room for the umpteenth time tonight. "Hey, Prim. Do you want some more medicine? More ice?"

I shake my head. "He has to stay."

"I know, I know. It'll all be okay. You can talk on the phone together, remember?"

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ON THE PHONE!" I scream, pounding my pillow and just wanting to wreck everything. "I—JUST—WANT—IAN—TO—STAY!"

"Oh, Prim…I'm so, so sorry."

"I DON'T WANT PITY, EITHER! I HATE THE DAMNED CAPITOL!" Tears are running down my cheeks again as I start cursing everything in existence, everything I've ever known. "THE DAMN CAPTIOL KEEPS RUINING EVERYTHING!"

Peeta's here, too. He takes my hand and rubs my back. "Hey, Prim? Can I tell you a bit of a story, or are you too sick to listen?"

"I'm too lovesick, Peeta, that's the problem," I explain weakly. "I'm too drunk with the alcohol I call love."

He nearly laughs. "I am, too. But I have to tell you something, Prim, and it might give you the idea that this will pass."

"Why does everyone say that? It won't pass, Peeta!" I'm not as hysterical anymore. His demeanor is calming, and his voice is almost like a drug that keeps you sane. "It's love. Love is the disease that can't heal. Love is the one thing you never, ever forget. You can forget pain, loss, suffering. You can forget those! Not love, Peeta! You of all people should know that!"

Peeta's eyes kind of hug me as he begins his story.

"I was a young soul, a little boy with an insane mother and a quiet father. We lived on stale bread. We never ate the good stuff that came from our little bakery.

"I went to school, as all of us did. Of course, as you know, our school was quite dirty, small, and overcrowded. But at least we were educated and taught the 'history' of our country.

"There was this girl. This girl, with two long braids and piercing gray eyes. Beautiful and quiet. Not at all what she is today. Her mother and father were happily married, her mother pregnant with another little girl. That girl was Katniss, and the baby was you.

"I watched Katniss walk home everyday. My father told me he wanted to marry your mother, but of course she married your father. My father always told me that when your father sang, even the birds stopped their tunes to listen. And when I heard that girl sing the valley song, I was hooked. Drunk with the alcohol you call love, Prim.

"One day I saw her against a tree in the rain, baby clothes at her feet. She was trying to trade. I saw that from our bakery window. Bread was baking in our oven, and I was in charge of making sure it didn't burn. Mother left for awhile to buy some flour, and I had an idea. I burnt the bread only slightly, knowing Mother would have a fit, so I could give it to Katniss.

"I was beat because I burnt that bread, Prim. But it was worth it. I broke it in two and tossed it to Katniss, once my mother was gone. She told me to feed it to the pigs, but I disobeyed. Katniss was starving and so were you. I knew about your mother's depression. So I threw that bread.

"Should I have gone out in the rain? Yeah. It was horrible not to. But I didn't. I was stupid and afraid of my mother. I could've helped you more. I could've stopped the famine overcoming your family. But all I did was toss Katniss two measly loaves of bread, and then I left.

"Of course, in every love story there is always someone else you're afraid will take away your lover. That person was Gale. Gale Hawthorne, Katniss's best friend and hunting partner. I was jealous of him before I even officially met Katniss. And everyday I would pray, pray that he would not get Katniss head-over-heels in love with him.

"And he didn't. But for a long, long, long time, I was so jealous, so petrified that Katniss would never be mine."

I am silent. He really does know what this is like.

Katniss is near tears. "Oh, my God, Peeta. That bread saved us, do you know that? That bread got me hunting. Don't beat yourself up for not going out in the rain. Your mother probably would've tied you to a stake and whipped you, Peeta, do you hear me? You saved our lives." And she kisses him.

_I remember when Ian and I first kissed._

I start to cry. I cry for Ian. He's going to be alone forever, sitting alone with his thoughts. I cry for Peeta. He was the little boy beaten by his mother for burning bread, and he was hopelessly drunk with the alcohol I call love. I cry for Katniss. She tried so hard for our family. I cry for Mother. She lost her true love, like me. I cry for myself, selfishly, because I know he's the glue holding me together. And I just sit there, sobbing, as Peeta and Katniss break away, their faces full of guilt.

"Oh, Prim, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—oh, God…" Peeta looks disgusted with himself. Katniss shares this expression.

"No—please—I just remembered when—when—augh, I JUST WANT HIM TO STAY!" I scream, my voice cracking, breaking.

"So do we, Prim…"

"I JUST WANT TO BE ALONE!"

They nod sadly and leave, no doubt whispering about me.

_One hour later, at the train station_

There he is.

Ian.

Dressed in a simple t-shirt, jacket, jeans, and sneakers.

His hair tousled and messy.

His eyes misty and broken.

I run to him, throwing my arms around his neck. I must look like a wreck: hair in knots, eyes red, tear streaks adorning my cheeks. I don't care; I just need him to see that I love him.

I kiss him; I kiss his nose and his forehead and his cheeks and his neck and his hands and his lips. His eyelashes flutter against my skin. "Primrose," he begins.

"Oh, Ian, I'm so, so, sorry." My voice is weak. I've been vomiting, screaming, and crying all night and day.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. Please don't tear yourself up over this. It's not your fault."

"But it's not yours, either, and that's the horrible thing," Peeta says, his voice also flat. "It's my fault. And now you're paying for it. I tried to tell the Capitol it was me, all me, but they didn't believe me. 'Stop covering for the boy,' they told me." He's obviously miserable and I hate myself, I hate myself.

"If you become depressed, Primrose, so help me I will become depressed too. Do you want that?" He's strict with me, furiously trying to make me understand. "Do you want that?"

"N-no."

"Are you going to get depressed?"

"No. I won't. I swear."

"Good. Good. Good. Now, kiss me again."

I smile slightly and kiss him passionately, more tears and grief and love poured into this kiss then ever before. I love him, I love him, he can't go.

The Capitol officials are standing beside us awkwardly. I want to kill them, tear them apart, scream and shake them, do anything to make them feel even a sliver of the pain I do.

"Promise me we'll talk every day?"

"I do. Promise me you'll never forget me?"

"I do. Promise me you'll always think of me when you watch the Games?"

"I do."

And with that, the officials sweep him onto the train. I raise my hand and blow him a kiss.

He catches it and puts it against his lips.

The train starts to move, and I hear him call out one last thing into the air:

"I'm drunk with the alcohol you call love."

In reply, I sprint with the train, yelling back, "And I'm addicted to the drug you call Ian."

The last glance I get of him is his eyes, so wonderfully green and vibrant.

_I love you_

_Two years later, in District 10_

Ian's POV

District 10 isn't so bad. It really does have some of the best brandy around. And the flowers are gorgeous, Primrose was right.

But I miss her so much it's like constantly being stabbed in the stomach, the heart.

At first, I could barely feel anything. I was numb, shocked by the dullness that was hanging around me without her. But gradually it got better. We talk on the phone. She managed to send me a picture of her and me, a picture they took after the Games. She and I, we look so happy. I miss her I miss her.

I walk down a cobblestone street. District 10 is the smallest district in Panem. But it's peaceful. I kind of like it. It's also poor, thought, poorer than 12. Thanks to me, they do have some extra money, though.

A flower stand has been set up by a small pond. A girl, younger than I, is selling some different types. I've got plenty of money now, so I decide to buy some.

"Hi there," I say, trying to keep my voice cheerful. "What kind of flowers do you have?"

She smiles up at me; her hazel eyes the color of caramel. "What kind of flowers do you want?"

"Well, first can I ask you why you're selling them?"

Her grin fades. "Mama broke her back and Daddy's out of work. We need money."

I feel awful for this girl. I take out my whole money bag—at least a few hundred, maybe a thousand dollars—and thrust it at her. "Here. I've got plenty more at home."

Her hazel eyes widen at the sight of the contents. "N-no, you can't—"

"I am. What's your name?"

"Diana. Diana Till." Her voice is full of gratitude. "Thank you so much, you have no idea—"

"I do. I'm from 12. I got relocated here after I won the Games. I'm separated from the love of my life. I'm Ian. Ian Reseda."

"The love of your life? Oh gosh that doesn't sound good."

"It's not. Her name is Primrose Everdeen."

Her eyes light up. "Katniss Everdeen's sister?"

"Yep. That's her."

"Well—here." She holds a white box out to me. "I live at 223 Water Dr. if you want to visit me sometime."

"Okay. Bye, Diana." I shake her hand. She's probably seven, eight.

"Bye, Ian." She runs back in the direction of her house, crying "Daddy! Daddy! Look!"

I smile at the sight of her joy as I walk back to my house in Victor's Village.

Inside of my room I open up the box.

A single tear falls onto the delicate petal of the primroses that lay on the white surface.

_I love you_


End file.
